You Have My Word
by 3zioand5ofia
Summary: What was really going through Ziio and Haytham's heads. A short-lived romance or a passionate affair? We will never know. But what we DO know is that there was so much more to their relationship than we thought. Rated T for mild language, some violence and sexual themes.
1. The Chase

Their footsteps were dangerously close. My natural instincts kicked in immediately.

I ran through the heavy coat of snow beneath my feet as fast as they would take me. Battling frantically against the blustering wind, I listened intently to their voices (despite the blood pounding in my ears).

"Stop! I only wish to talk!"

_Keep running, Ziio. You have nearly lost them._  
_What is they mean no harm?_  
_They don't. They just want to slaughter me and all my people._  
_No. They freed you._  
_Get away from them!_  
**_Stop!_**  
_Keep running._  
**_Stop._**  
_Keep running!_  
**_STOP!_**

"Please! Stop!" the man shouted breathlessly.

I hugged my fur garment around my body more tightly and stumbled my way through the blizzard. The Englishman shuffled ever-closer towards me.

_STOP! HE JUST WISHES TO SPEAK!_  
_He will use me._  
_He FREED you!_  
_I have run out of trust for the English._

But then, something strange happened to me. My mind was paralysed. I remembered who he was. The way he had promised softly that I would be safe. The way he had attempted to calm me. The way his eyes somehow glinted with truth.

Why on earth was I running from _him? _There was something special about that look in his eyes that I remembered. I had no clue what it was. All I know is that it caused my footsteps to cease. I skidded and paused.

My abrupt halt caused my balance to cease. I slipped backwards and landed on the ground, sinking into the bone-chilling snow. My body immediately fell into shivers. My bosom heaved as I began to catch shuddery breaths.

_Crunch. Crunch. Crunch._

_Oh, good God. He's coming!_

Rapidly, I lifted myself off the ground in embarrassment. Luckily, he hadn't seen. I knelt in the snow, pulling myself together.

_Why on earth did you stop, Ziio?_  
_Because..._  
_He will do you no favours._  
_It'll be fine. I'll just act firm._

He had at last caught up with me, panting like a wolf and his hat askew. He staggered towards me.

"Are you touched in the head?!" I demanded.

He took deep gasps for air between words. "Me. Haytham. I come. In. Peace."

_Why do they all think that we're simpletons? I can speak English, for goodness' sake._

"Why. Are. You. Speaking. So. Slow?" I mimicked, already regretting my decision to stop the chase.

"Oh, sorry." Haytham looked helpless even as he stood up taller, straightening his blue cloak and adjusting his hat.

"What do you want?" I inquired coldly.

"Well, your name, for one."

_What? He came all this way just for my name?_

I suppressed a smile with difficulty. "I'm Kaniehtí:io."

"Pleased to meet you, god-z-zi-"

My feelings were now confused. I found this somewhat amusing, yet my expression remained stiff as a plank. "Just call me Ziio."

"Diio?"

"Ziio."

A patronisingly awkward silence rang out. Nothing crossed our ears but the howling wind and the distant sounds of the forest behind us.

"Now, tell me why it is that you're here."

The tension was broken. Haytham pulled something round, which resembled a turquoise stone on a string from his cloak. I squinted to look at it properly. That was when recognition hit me: the patterns seemed very familiar.

Snatching it from his leather glove, I asked (slightly stunned): "Where did you get this?"

"From an old friend," he shrugged simply.

My eyes feasted on its lines down the centre of it. They resembled a slash from a wolf's claws, emblazoned in a vivd orange. "I have only seen such markings in one other place."

Boy, did I know where it came from. The cave inside a hidden mountain I discovered as a small child. Of course, the whole village knew about it too; it was there for a reason; but no. I was arrogant enough to believe that I and I alone had discovered its whereabouts. In front of it stood a door with a brightly-coloured picture of the Sacred Story. I would sit there for hours on end, before my anxious mother would come to fetch me. I hadn't been there since I was a child.

"Where?" Haytham asked, tearing me away from memory lane.

"It's forbidden for me to speak of it." For the first time, my tone of voice indicated that I'd started to open up. I sounded apologetic.

Now it was his turn to be wary. "I saved your people. Does this mean nothing to you?" he snapped.

_Hang on, hang on. He is right._  
_He's English. Why should I trust him?_  
_You stopped. You listened._  
_It means nothing._  
_Tell him._  
_Do not._  
_Do it!_  
_No._

He sighed and put his hands up, as if surrendering to me. "Look, I am not the enemy."

At that moment, he looked up into my eyes. The side of my head which wanted to run away from him dissolved in a heartbeat. As he surveyed my face, desperate for some sort of reaction, I came to a decision.

"Near to here there is a hill. Meet me there, and we'll see if you speak the truth." With that, I turned around and started to walk away. I couldn't bear the wrath to look into his eyes any longer. Oh, the humiliation.


	2. Blowing The Fuse

As she turned away, I rolled my eyes in resentment. How much does one have to do to earn trust from a Mohawk woman? I thought this would be _easy. _I remember saying: 'The sooner we're done, the sooner we can get out of this cold.' I think the tone of Ziio's voice and her belittling attitude was enough to chill me to the bone.

Obediently, I heaved myself up the snowy hill to follow her. She had left me with no choice. Since the amulet was in her hands, I knew _I_ could trust _her_. Why could she not at least return the favour?

The strong blizzard swept through my ponytail and lashed at my ears. My feet were throbbing from running so far uphill. _Oh, for a plane landscape, _I thought.

_Why are you wasting your time and energy on this woman?_  
_She'll be a vital ally._  
_Well, she's being about as much help as a blind goose on a mountain trek._  
_I'm sure she'll come round._

As Ziio's figure appeared when I was approaching, I had to stop for a moment. The way her braids sailed in the now gentle snowy breeze, the way the natural little frills on her garment flicked elegantly away from me. I had not ever fully appreciated that any woman in London could be so beautiful as _her_. It was only for a second or two that my mind had rested on this. I didn't know what had come over me afterwards, though I didn't react with indignation: there had been something between us for a moment, only...she didn't know it.

_For god's sake, look at her normally or not at all. What is wrong with you?_

Shaking my head and focusing on at least trying to feel human again, I trudged up to her where she stood on a stone cliff overlooking some tents, a dwindling campfire, some scavenging mutts and a warm-looking pub with smoke swirling from the chimney. I groaned inwardly, longing to thaw out my frozen body.

Ziio didn't even glance up at me as I stood next her. "That's the house of the soldiers who seek to drive my people from these lands." She indicated the pub below. "They're led by a man known as the Bulldog."

Where had I heard this nickname before? I knew who it was immediately: "Edward Braddock." I muttered.

This was the moment when she looked up in alarm. "You know him?" she demanded furiously.

"He is no friend of mine." Mirroring her dark attitude seemed to diffuse the tension more easily than I thought. She relaxed and turned to face the view, waiting for me to say something.

"Then...I suggest we put a stop to it," I replied. For some reason, it was hard to say the last word. My stomach flipped as I said it: "Together."

_Why won't she just look...this...way?  
Get over it._

"What do you propose?" she asked.

"That we kill Edward Braddock." Now I too faced the outstretch of land before us. "But first...we have to find him."

_I wish she would just** look** at me, at the very least.  
Get a grip, Haytham._

__At that moment, Ziio did something which was rather unexpected: Bending down slightly, she bounded up to the edge of the cliff, outstretched her arms and dived silently off the edge like a vulture plunging to its prey. Alarmed and somewhat distressed, I dashed over to where she had jumped to see what had become of her. As I looked down, I saw a bale of hay beneath the cliff rustling, before she fumbled her way out.

_A Leap of Faith. Impressive. Very impressive indeed!_

__I could barely stifle my surprise and relief as she looked up and indicated for me to do the same. Unafraid, I too leapt off the edge and felt myself free-falling through the air, the wind whipping across my face. The bristles of the hay brushed irritatingly against my skin as I landed softly in the bale.

"I don't trust you," Ziio stated coldly as I pushed through the bale to join her.

"I know."

"Yet you remain."

As I walked towards the inn, a fierce battle between two sides of my head raged again.

_I'm annoying her. This is not good._  
_So much for valuable ally._  
_She'll turn out fine. It's only natural that she's wary of us._  
_I shouldn't have to do much more to earn her trust, surely?_  
_The Mohawks can be unpredictable.  
Maybe I can prove her wrong._

"I could prove you wrong," I shrugged.

"It will not happen." While she walked in front of me, I watched with amusement as her fists clenched and relaxed like I was inside of her palm. I chuckled.

"So you say."

"So I know," she fumed, spitting the words out like an angry cat.

"Yet...I remain."

Her fists clenched so tightly now that I thought she would break a finger. How amusing it was to watch her blow a fuse. I knew that at any second she could pull out the curled knife tucked threateningly in her belt...yet she didn't.

So I remained.


	3. The Tavern

There was no other explanation why I couldn't sleep at all that night. She had to be the reason.

Every time I so much as got close to switching off, her face appeared in my head. Her brown eyes shone like polished wood; her thick black braids danced in the breeze like earlier on that day; her coffee-coloured skin made her seem like she fitted in with the earth and nature around her like the missing piece of the forest's puzzle.

So different to what I was used to. Women from London always seemed to be so vain; so buffed-up and over-perfect. The effect of their faces being plastered in white make-up (making them resemble clownesses) and the illusion that they were tall due to hair flounced up at ridiculous heights...it always seemed too much for me. Ziio was simple, and I believed in 'Less-is-More'.

At around midnight, I gave up trying to fall asleep. I sat up in bed and reached across for the matchbox, lighting the candlestick on the table beside me. I stared wearily into the flame, watching it flap and flicker unevenly from side to side. It reminded me once more of the tips of Ziio's hair.

_Jesus Christ, I just need to get her out of my head._  
_Why would you want to do that?_  
_I'm tired. I can't sleep. Because she won't go away._

I put my head in my hands and sighed. Even then, when I closed my eyes I couldn't help but notice the slight twinge on my cheek from the fight earlier on in the tavern. What an eventful day it had been...

* * *

"Wait here- a Mohawk woman is likely to raise suspicion," I told her as firmly as my nerves would allow. I added my worst fear on the end: "if not muskets."

Ziio frowned in indignation. "This is hardly the first time I've been amongst your people," she hissed. "I can handle myself."

With that, she gave a very gentle but well-meant shove with the back of her hand. I let go of the door in surprise and stepped backwards. She opened the inn's door and strode briskly inside.

Yet again, I breathed a heavy sigh, watching the crystals of cold air swirl around my nose and mouth. "I hope so," I thought aloud, before turning to follow her in.

Though the warmth of the crackling fire in the corner seemed to act like the Kiss of Life for my frozen muscles, there was a very grim edge about the place. All the men in red jackets talked in dark, low voices and huddled together in small groups. It was rather grimy and the floor was a murky wood, like a damp tree. It was so different to the happy atmosphere of the tavern we were staying in; what, with the chirpy folk music playing in the corner, the babble of content voices and click-clunk of board games spread around various tables.

I kept a concerned eye on Ziio. She seemed to stick out like a sore thumb in her beige fur piece, Mohawk jewellery and dark skin. Nobody seemed to notice her but me as she seated herself on a barstool and asked the surly-looking man behind the counter for a drink. Perhaps she was right; perhaps she was used to being in this tavern.

I knew exactly what to do. We were here to eavesdrop.

* * *

Ziio nudged me. "I think we have enough information now," she murmured.

I dipped my head in agreement. We were raising enough suspicion as it was. It was time to go. I drained the contents of my goblet and slid off the barstool silently. If anybody saw us creeping outside, we were likely to be caught. If we walked out normally, it would look unnatural for us to be in there for a short time then walk off. There was going to be no easy way around this. I huffed.

"You first," she urged.

Taking one look around to see if anybody was looking or listening, I crept further away from her. slowly- _very_ slowly- I edged towards the door. My muscles tensed with every step I took.

_Please make it. Please make it. Please make it._

At last, my hand reacher the door handle. I was safe...so I thought.

"Oi! Where are you goin' cully?" I jumped like a frightened piglet and swivelled round. The whole pub had turned deafeningly silent. All eyes were fixed not on Ziio- but_ me_. The hostility in every face gnawed at my nerves like rats.

The man who had spoken marched fiercely towards me. Ziio shot me a furious look from behind; fire seemed to spit from her brown eyes. I felt guilt and failure burn my face in an instant.

"Who? Me?" I replied, attempting the old 'was-someone-talking-to-me?' trick.

"No, the other cock robin," he shot back sarcastically.

"I- well, I was leaving..."

"Oh? And now?" He rounded on me, wagging a finger in my face like a naggy mother.

_Oh no, what do I say? I cannot say I was going to stay!  
__He knows you were eavesdropping. There is no escape!  
__But I have to say something! He will kill me!_

"And now..." I looked across at Ziio again. Despite all that was going on (and the anger in her face), her beauty seemed to grow in my mind once again. It gave my babbling, panicky tongue strength. I looked back up at the man, darkness clouding my face. "And now...I'm going to feed you your teeth."

The rage in Ziio's face disappeared. For the first time, she broke into a smirk. "And you thought I was going to be the problem?" she snorted.

The man looked startled, but his face too now resembled a bull ready for a fight. "Bring it on!" he roared.

* * *

Punches flew at me from all directions. I lashed out wildly with my fists at anyone who approached, adrenaline spurring me on. A few lay unconscious on the ground after about a minute; some were still on their feet.

I received a savage punch across my cheekbone from my left. Blood spattered across my face. I spun around, grabbed the man by his collar and hurled him on a nearby table. It cracked in two and toppled to the ground instantly. _Five down. Surely there are not that many more?_

My cheek throbbed as I scanned the inn for any more opponents. The men had cleared the area at the beginning of the fight. People crammed into the corners and cheered fierce cries:

"Get 'im! Throw 'im to the floor!"

"Come on! Give 'im your best!"

"Fight! Fight! Fight!"

"Go on!"

Only two men remained. One of them charged determinedly like a galloping war-horse. In a panic, I threw my fist in his face; once, twice, three times. Blood leaked from his nose and lip. He howled in pain, returning to the sidelines.

During all this, Ziio had taken refuge behind the bar, blending in and pretending to jeer me on. Why wasn't she helping? Couldn't she see I was struggling?

The last man and I circled each other. We were dangerously close. The soldier took his turn first. He tried to hit me across the cheek (where blood was already dripping down my face). I ducked...but it was too late. It collided with an excruciating amount of force. I winced, feeling the bruise throb and protest.

At that moment, I would have given up. There were so many other men on the sidelines to fight if this continued! But something gave me strength: as the man smacked me once more across the jaw, Ziio's stone-hard expression disappeared instantly from behind. She gasped, clasping a hand to her mouth.

"Haytham!" she cried, horror-struck.

My jawbone felt like it was screaming in pain at me, but I carried on. Swinging my leg across his face, I managed to knock him to the ground. My heavy boot smacked into the side of his head. He twitched and was still.

The rowdy battle cries subsided. Every man rose from table to help the injured. The dark murmurs had turned to concerned whispers and moans of agony. I winced in pain, ambling towards the bar stool. Ziio sat back down beside me, her expression still horrified.

"You are hurt," she stated softly.

"Agh, it's nothing," I barely whispered.

She kept her eyes fixed on my injury. I watched her hands in confusion. She reached for a bottle of wine behind the counter, pulled out a piece of white cloth from inside her garment and pour some of the alcohol onto the handkerchief.

"Here." She dabbed it gingerly on the bruise. The liquid, as it seeped through the blood, stung slightly. "This should stop the bleeding."

That must have been the moment. As Ziio's eyes (filled with concern) gazed up into my own, their blazing beauty pierced me. I felt a lump grow in my throat. Just about twenty minutes ago, she had seen me as some sort of clumsy and useless man. Now...I was a baby in her arms.

She pulled her hand away, a little more coyly than I had expected. Our eyes met again. Was she feeling this- this spark between us?

"That was not necessary," I rasped. Why did my voice sound so unusual? "But- thank you."


	4. An Unexpected Meeting

That night that I lay awake, my head dizzy from such a dramatic day.

_There was something odd about Haytham, _I thought, _which must have made me help him earlier_. I am usually thought by others as a woman with a core hard as steel, and a mask of cold stone in front of my actual warm personality. No matter how firm or harsh I had been with Haytham, no matter how intimidating I tried to be, no matter how much my words grilled and abused him...he reacted in the same, unmoved tone of voice. It drove me wild that I had to hide the amount of effort I was putting into this man to show him that I was boss. Just the way he spoke and the way he treated me...it was peeling away the stone-hard cast around my true self.

I knew that I couldn't suppress my efforts any longer as he took on the men in the tavern. When he was injured, I involuntarily cried out for him. Why? What had made me so concerned? How was he any different to all the other Englishmen? I didn't know.

* * *

It also came as a pleasant surprise when I saw him again, a few days later.

Although I hadn't expected him to come riding through the snow one afternoon. I happened to be out hunting. The afternoon sun filtering warmly through the clouds above was a clear sign that spring was on its way: the best time to hunt. However, the heat was not enough that the snow turned to slushy ice and disappeared. It was still there; still causing difficulty.

I had set a trap beneath an old pine. I lingered above on one of its branches, staring down like a vulture waiting for its prey to die. It must have been then when I heard the light padding noise of many hooves.

_A deer, perhaps?_

My ears pricked up like an alert fox. The light "crunch, crunch crunch, crunch crunch" came ever-closer. If this was indeed a deer, I could feed half the clan! How impressed the Clan Mother would be. The children would not go to sleep hungry for at least a whole day.

There it was. A small furry doe pranced up towards the tree, her staccato footsteps edging closer to me. She shook her fuzzy pelt to free it of a dusting of snow.

_Yes! _Silently, I reached into the quiver on my back, wrenched an arrow out of it and clicked it into place. I closed one eye and aimed. PING! The creature had paused to eat some emerging grass as the arrow flew past. It collapsed onto the snow-covered ground before it knew what had hit it. I grinned in triumph. Of course catching it was not hard; it was pleasing that I had caught the first.

I was about to dive down from the branch I crouched on and collect my prize when another set of hooves clip-clopping sounded not far from the left. _A horseman?_

I expected it to be one of the Bulldog's men. I snapped to attention and jerked another arrow into the bow and remained still as a statue. I listened so intently to the approaching clip-clop and rattle of stirrups that my ears may well have been sticking out.

_That is strange. The horsemen never come through here. What are they doing? How many are there? What are they looking for?_ The questions kept forming themselves as curiosity (and slight concern) drifted through my mind.

Now the horseman was close enough for me to see him. There was only one...but it was not at all what I'd expected. I squinted in surprise. My mouth opened slightly. Was it really...?

"Haytham," I breathed.

It really was him. He sat pompously on his black horse; his three-pointed hat tipped slightly to show his black hair swept back into a tight ponytail. His blue-grey cloak rose and fell against the horse's flanks.

_What is he doing here? For how long has he travelled? Should I make my presence known, or would that startle him? _Either way I crouched frozen as the doe on the ground.

Haytham halted his horse. He dismounted right in front of the tree. Had he seen me? No. He kept his eyes low on the ground. That was when everything became clear: he was marvelling at the fresh-kill below me. I tensed slightly as he approached it, bending down to inspect the arrow sticking out of it His face creased in confusion. I could tell he was thinking: _Where is the source of the arrow? Am I safe here?_

His head pivoted in all directions, trying to trace back a source to where the weaponry could've come from. Having established that the mysterious hunter wasn't on the ground, he scanned the trees.

He bounded backwards in surprise. "Ziio!" he gasped. "H-how-"

I grinned ever-so-sweetly back down at him. "Hello again."

"I- what are you doing here?" he blundered.

"Hunting." I smirked, pointing to the wooden bow in my hand. "I may ask you the same question."

He shrugged, a little more together than before. "Out for some fresh air, I suppose."

I snorted. "Hm! Fresh air. I suppose you came looking for deer meat as well? Because I am _not_ sharing."

"I'll have you know," he began, deliberately melodramatically, "that I just happened to be passing it and thought it was curious, to see a dead animal at this time of..."

I wasn't listening. Brushing some snow on the branch into a neat ball, aimed, I hurled it through the air. It collided with his shirt, interrupting his drone.

"Ah!" he started, jumping yet another step back. He flashed a playful smile, brushing the sparkling white dust away. "Now _that _was not fair." He scooped down and started collecting snow like an excited child. It was an unusual sight: where did the dignified and well-spoken Master Kenway go? Instead, there he stood in the snow, energetically hurling a snowball towards me.

It skimmed the top of my head; he was too high to notice, though.

* * *

I took the opportunity to play a joke on him. I gave a fake shriek and allowed my body to fall backwards to the bottom of the tree into the biting snow pile beneath it.

Silence. I stifled my shivers and waited for a reaction.

"Ziio!" Haytham cried out. "Ziio? Are you alright? Ziio?"

I could hear him running around the tree. He was standing above me. I focused very hard on suppressing the shivers and staying still. My braids lay askew in the snow; my body locked in a stone-still position.

"Oh, god, no..." he trembled. "ZIIO!"

I could hear the raw terror in his voice. He put a hand across my forehead, another across my chest. I couldn't help but feel my heart flutter a little when his hand touched my neck, feeling desperately for a pulse.

_Whoops, he's taken this too seriously. Should I end the joke?_

"Scared you, did I?" I said, without even opening my eyes.

He yelled out in shock. "Oh my god!" he exclaimed between desperate gasps for air. "ZIIO! DON'T...YOU EVER... DO THAT... TO ME...AGAIN!"

Despite the sheer rage, fright and trauma in his voice, the words bounced around my ears.

_Don't you ever do that to me again. To me again. To me. Me. _I opened my eyes. The man standing above me...no, almost crouching directly above me had throbbed my heart again. His eyes convex in anger; his breath shuddery and frantic; his chin trembling. He was terrified about me. I could hear it in his voice. Was he...was he _feeling_ for me?

I immediately adopted an honest smile. "I am sorry," I breathed, "I didn't think you'd be so worried."

"Worried?" he snapped. "_Worried_? I thought you were...d-_dead_!"

"I have said sorry," I snickered, like a carefree adolescent being told off. "What more do I owe you?"

His face turned playful again after a few moments of silence. That was when he did the unexpected: he grabbed a lump of snow and smothered it in my face. "That. That is what you owe me."

"Hey!" I laughed, staggering to my feet.

* * *

It was an unusual meeting; I will admit that. We spent the afternoon hurling snowballs at each other, laughing like little children. Afterwards, ruby-faced and somewhat puffed, we returned to the tree and sat up against it side by side, looking at the ground and sharing stories and memories with one another.

"So...he ended up having to kill the bastard. Silas deserved exactly what he got." Haytham finished one of his stories, tossing a ball of snow up and down.

I couldn't help but steal a glance at him as he lay up against the tree, cloak and suit spread out and ponytail fallen out. He stared blankly into the melting snow beneath us. It was a wonderful sight.

"I must have...forgotten to say something important to you...after freeing my people that day." My stomach flipped as I said it. Would I have the strength to say it?

"What's that?"

"Th-thank you." I diverted my eyes immediately (his eyes still seemed to bring a burning shame whenever I looked at them).

"Oh," he blushed ever-so-slightly. "Well...in that case, I suppose I owe you an apology."

"Apology? What for?"

"For...for stirring up trouble in the tavern."

"No- _I'm_ sorry I didn't help you fight."

"No- thank YOU for helping me afterwards."

We laughed. Where was this conversation going? I decided to divert it back to where I thought we would need to:

"So...from what those men in the tavern were saying, Braddock's camp isn't far from here. What do you propose that we do?"

Haytham, slightly disappointed that our "happy" moment had ended, dropped the ball of snow he tossed absent-mindedly and cleared his throat. "I suggest we find a way to penetrate his forces first. If one of us can get in there, we can eavesdrop some more. If it's Edward we're talking about, we'll need as much information as possible."

I nodded. "And what of his plans? Of my people?"

"All you can do is keep them safe- but aware of the danger. We do not want more fighting involved...yet."

"Very well. When shall we meet?"

He paused. "Tomorrow. Yes, we'll meet outside the camp tomorrow afternoon."

* * *

With that, we departed form one another, leaving my heart and spirits lifted higher than they had been in a long time.


	5. Swordplay (Part 1)

"Haytham. Haytham!"

I snapped out of my reverie at once. "Yes, Charles?"

We were sat once more in the Wright Tavern, marvelling over a map stolen from Braddock of the colonies surrounding the town. Alas, I wasn't paying attention. I was re-capturing every beautiful moment of the afternoon Ziio and I spent together two weeks ago. A change of pace. A rest from all the dedication, battle plans and dirty kills.

Was it the way that my heart-strings were plucked at the sight of her face; at the sound of her voice? Was it that her personality triggered such enthusiasm in me? I knew I'd only met her...well, about a month ago. This didn't seem to make any difference: Ziio's presence was unravelling my maturity, my dignity, the outer layer of myself. I was chipping away at her mask to see a truly beautiful woman...with a truly beautiful personality to match. It seemed a balanced exchange.

"Do pay attention," sighed a somewhat exasperated Charles. "This is important."

Embarrassed, I sat up tall in my chair and attempted to focus.

"So, if Braddock were to strike here..." he pointed to a location somewhere near the river. "Our forces can easily penetrate in the gap in his forces here."

"That will not be necessary. Ziio and her allies will ambush him there. It is the only way this will work for us without being outnumbered." My mind slid out of focus to the day when I had broken into Edward's camp and retrieved the map we were poring over. _She_ had been present; she'd given me orders and scolded me once again like she would in a serious situation.

_Ziio..._

Charles eyed me suspiciously. In the end he shrugged and nodded. "Very well. But what is our role in this? When do we know when to attack?"

"Time will tell, Charles. Rest assured. The Mohawks will send word when it is time for the attack."

"Will we have to wait long?"

"I'm afraid so. A few months, at the very least."

"But, that's-"

"We must be patient if we want this to go to plan," I interrupted him. "Yes, I was quite uncomfortable about that thought as well. In order that our plans our set in stone, we have to wait."

* * *

So wait we did. We took a little break from all the hard work. I do remember clearly one incident when Thomas and I headed for the woods to chop some timber. The barmaid was running low on the stock and offered us a little money in return.

I dragged the moaning Hickey through the thicket, equipped with axes, blades and ropes. The warm spring glitch like on the day I'd spent with Ziio was beginning to disappear: light snowflakes swirled in the air and landed gently beneath our feet.

"'ow long are we goin' to be?" he demanded. "I could be doin' much better stuff than this."

"Yet you are logging, Thomas. And you will see the task through whether you like it or not."

He groaned. "These axes are heavy," he blurted.

I cocked an eyebrow. "And your sword is not?"

"Ugh, fine. But I'm doin' this for the money. This better no' take long." He turned away defeated and began plunging an axe into the trunk of a small tree. I rolled my eyes behind his back: why did Thomas have to be...Thomas?

* * *

Once we thought we had as much as we could comfortably transport back, he and I bound ropes around the logs and started packing up our tools.

"This ain't enough," he noted. "We need more."

I nodded. "You take this load back. I will cut some more."

I breathed a sigh of relief: this did not spark any exasperation up from Thomas. He heaved the two ends of the rope over his shoulders and began to drag. His figure went slowly further and further into the distance. I thought inexplicably of _her_ again, and the world around me melted away.

* * *

_Ziio indicates the camp. "Use the snowstorm to mask your approach," she orders._

_I look reluctantly past the tree trunks into the blustery swirls of snowflakes. Is this really necessary? How am I going to infiltrate the camp and find out as much as I can without detection? I don't want any more trouble like before: that is certain._

_I notice she is glaring at me impatiently. "Having second thoughts?"she barks._

_"Hardly," I reply coolly, standing up taller. "But I'll have to approach this carefully."_

_Realising that she cannot intimidate me further, she wavers me way. "Go on, then. I'll keep watch from here."_

_I cannot help but pause and chortle at her tone of voice. She is endeavouring display a venomous attitude, to come out on top...and it isn't working._

_"What?" Ziio snaps, bewildered. "Why are you laughing?"_

_"Hm, hm. Nothing. I just thought you'd have given up jumping down my throat." I flash a little smile at her._

_She returns it for a brief second, making my stomach do a backflip. "Ha! Now is not the time. Now go!"_

* * *

"Are you lost?" A familiar voice jolted me back to reality once more. I jumped and turned to face the speaker.

"Ziio!"

I felt my heart tighten. There she stood, a good fifteen feet away with a bow in her hand. As beautiful as I'd imagined her.

_How did I not hear her sneaking up on me?_  
_I was busy daydreaming..._  
_About her._

"How did you-" I began.

"Nice to see you too," she replied, a little flirtatiously. "I see you have been staring up into treetops again. You didn't expect to see me _there_, did you?"

"No," I replied, finding myself shuffling closer. "I was waiting for a friend." I spat the last word 'friend' out like a rotten taste.

Ziio tipped her head. Her facial expressions pretty much summed up the word: _Really?_

"Alright," I sighed. "An accomplice, if you like." (For Thomas was most certainly not my friend.)_  
_

"He seemed rather rude to you earlier."

"Oh, don't worry. That's just Thomas being...Thomas."

She shrugged, placing her bow to the ground.

"What brings you here?" I asked. "Hunting again?"

Ziio nodded. "I have not caught anything yet, though. You?"

"Well, you must have seen what I was doing. Logging."

"Why?"

"Oh, the barmaid needed some more wood for the fire. We...I mean, I...volunteered to help her."

Was it just me, or did Ziio look slightly miffed when I mentioned the other woman? Either way, she momentarily dropped her gaze to stare at the bracelets round her wrist. Was she...was she _jealous_?

"Just...as a friendly favour. I am not that familiar with her," I promised hurriedly.

Silence.

_Oh no...is that not what she meant? _  
_No. She seemed hurt. She must have been upset.  
_

I swallowed, pushing the obvious chemistry to the back of my mind. I itched my neck in the uncomfortable quietness.

At last, she spoke: "I see. Would you like any help?"

"No, we're fine thanks. I'll cut some more later." I pointed to my axe on the ground nearby.

"With that tiny blade?" she snorted.

"It's better than your knife," I retorted, a little insulted.

"What are you talking about? My knife has saved my life on many occasions." She stroked the handle of her weapon fondly.

"As I'm sure!" I chuckled. "So has my sword."

Ziio rolled her eyes. "Ha! What is it with men and swords?"

"What? Is there a problem with my sword?"

"They're large and clumsy," she huffed, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

I had never heard anything so ridiculous. "Nonsense! It's the most useful weapon someone can own!" I drew it out of its case. "Have you never used one?"

"No."

"Why not?" I was completely flabbergasted. How come Ziio was such a skilful killer when she had never so much as picked up a basic essential: a sword- in her life? "I shall have to teach you!"

She laughed. "Now? Right now?"

"Why not?"

"Because..." She looked past my shoulder and into the distance. "I don't want to use one," she blurted.

"Such a feeble excuse. Come on, I'm going to teach you!" I bent my fingers in a 'give-me' gesture.

She tightened her clutch on the mallet of her knife like a girl with a doll. "I don't know, Haytham...I am not sure swordplay is for me."

"Having second thoughts, are we?" I mimicked.

"Oh, you..." She elbowed me playfully. "Why must you quote what I say?"

I flashed a cheeky smile across to her, immediately redeeming my mature self afterwards. "Come on. Hand it over."

Reluctantly she let the curled metal roll onto my gauntlet. It glinted in the sunlight with a type of dangerous allure. Like Ziio herself. In return I handed my sword to her. Ziio's delicate fingers pinched the sword as if it were something vile.

"Come on. Hold it properly."

"I thought I was supposed to be the assertive one," she said, exasperation creeping into her voice.

_Ugh, Women!_

"Would you like your knife back or not?"

Finally accepting that I had given her no choice, Ziio stood back. She raised the sword with hardly and difficulty at all (before swinging it round clumsily above her head). Dangerously close to hurting herself.

"Careful!" I cried out involuntarily. Immediately afterwards I wanted to snatch the word back: I knew she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. Especially with the glare she was giving me now. _Stupid, stupid, stupid._

* * *

***READ* There will be a Part 2 for this chapter...but because I don't personally like having chapters exceeding 1,500ish words, I've split what I've written in two. So anyway, sorry if Haytham and Ziio's little "meetings" are getting repetitive. Give an honest answer in reviews. If you want a little more drama involved then just say the word!**


	6. Swordplay (Part 2)

**Part 2 begins! Enjoy and review honestly :)**

* * *

"Now, when I try to assault you, block me like this." I held the knife perpendicular to my sword in her hand. She copied me straightaway. "Hang on- keep your elbows down. It'll only give your enemy, this case, me- and advantage."

Ziio swung the heavy weapon towards my chest. Instinctively I blocked her off. And again. And again, and again. _Clink, clink, clink._

"Good. Very good! Now I'm going to try it on you."

"This is easier than I thought," she breathed. "Perhaps I was wrong."

I smiled. "See? Just open your mind. You may surprise yourself."

_Isn't this wonderful? I am with Ziio, she is trusting me...and enjoying my company!  
__Why are you thinking like this, Haytham? Like you think she matters to you.  
__Well, she does.  
__But since when has one Mohawk woman, no matter how beautiful, made any huge difference to a Templar?  
__Right now.  
__Stop this insolence! This is no way for you to behave!_

Too busy staring into her face in wonder, my reactions were slow as the tip of her blade made a thin slit in my coat. I recovered myself nimbly and jabbed the knife at the much larger blade she held. Ziio stopped at once.

"Sorry!" she gasped. "I didn't mean to tear your jacket."

"That's...fine. You're doing well!" I heard the words leave my lips. I dared not glimpse her blazing brown eyes for a split second.

She blushed slightly, but switched back to normal at once. My spirit sank a little. "So...surely with a larger blade I can knock the knife out of your hand?"

"Exactly. Try it now."

And sure enough, after a few clunks of the two sharp parts colliding, Ziio's knife went tumbling out of my hand and through the air almost in slow motion. It sailed past the sun and winked with a blinding reflection of the light.

"Not bad! Not bad at all! We'll make a swordswoman out of you yet!" I applauded.

She tilted her head challengingly. "You sound surprised?"

I shook my head. "Forgive me. I should not be by now." I bent down to retrieve her knife for her. Gratefully she took it back, shrugging.

"I still think I prefer my knife, though. But...well, I guess I know now that I am safe using a sword!"

"As you wish. One more duel, come on! Thomas will be back soon."

* * *

Even as her wrist flicked madly, Ziio was never quite unable to overcome my sword. We had swapped our weapons back so that we were both comfortable before laughing our way through another lively play-fight. The sun gleaming onto the steel, the rhythmic _clink_ of the swords and the melody of Ziio's sweet laughter blocked out all negativity. This was everything I loved: swordplay, with a woman whose company I enjoyed, on a relaxed afternoon like this. I was a feather in the breeze without a care in the world.

After we became fatigued, we sat in the middle of the grass (despite the slowly thickening snow).

"I was trained to use a sword at the age of six," I told her. I was absent-mindedly picking daisies out of the grass and twirling them in my hand.

Ziio looked up in interest. "Six? That's a little extreme, is it not? Why would you have need for such a talent at that age?"

I shrugged. "Who knows? I suppose...Father wanted me to be an extreme fighter!" We laughed in beautiful harmony. But only for a moment: Ziio now resumed picking blades of grass from the bank we sat on. As she reached down, a sickening sight made my stomach lurch.

_My goodness, how did she get that gash in her arm?_  
_It looks like the work of a knife!_  
_Oh no. No! Is she alright?!  
Stop worrying. This is Ziio we are talking about._

I lost control of my senses. My hand reached out and gently touched the long red scar across the top of her arm. She flinched and stopped what she was doing, making my pulse rate double.

"Ziio," I trembled, concerned, "How did you obtain this?"

"What? This?" she pulled her arm out of my grasp. "It is nothing."

"It does not look like nothing to me. Someone attacked you, didn't they? Didn't they?"

"I told you. It is noth-"

"Ziio." I adopted a grave tone of voice. This time she did not struggle when I re-gripped her arm. "Please. Who did this to you?" I set my gaze straight into her deep pupils. I stroked the cut gently with my thumb. At last, defeated, she sighed. "Alright. It was a redcoat. Perhaps one of those who opposed you in the tavern."

"What?!" Anger surged through every inch of my body. "Where? When? Was he alone?"

A little irritated, she replied: "Not far outside Lexington. He was alone, yes. He must've seen from a distance that I was Mohawk. The man was very young, though. About twenty years old, I guessed. I was walking past and he grabbed me, holding a knife to my throat."

"My god," I gasped. "What happened? How did you get away?"

"He said something along the lines of 'I've seen you here before, have I not?' which led me to believe that he was present when we were eavesdropping in the tavern. He began to taunt me and made very malicious remarks about my people. At last he finished with: 'And where's that English lover of yours?'"

_Ignore, ignore, ignore!_  
_Why? _  
_Because it is not true. You are NOT thinking that the redcoat was right._  
_But I am. 'Lover' is what he said._  
_Haytham! Such immaturity! Stop this! Think of something else, quickly!_

I blocked out the imaginary sounds in my head. "Yes?"

"I punched him and managed to writhe myself free. He was no skilled fighter; he lashed out with his dagger madly as I made to escape- but the tip of it slashed through my skin as a result."

"Ziio, I'm sorry!" My voice rose more and more. "I never meant for this you to go through this! He was threatening you for me, wasn't he?"

"Not exactly. Remember, it is The Bulldog's men who want my people out of this land. Why I am not quite sure."

My throat dried in an instant. I knew exactly why Braddock wanted the Mohawks out of the land. The very same reason the Templars wanted them out...secretly. Fear suddenly swept over my head before you could say 'Mohawk'. What if...what if, sometime in the future, my men proposed to be rid of the tribes living on this land?

"But...I am still sorry. This is partly my fault." I did not dare mention why. "It won't happen again. I promise you."

Ziio must have been about to say something. She froze with her mouth open, looking surprised up at me. That was before she smiled coyly, and said: "Thank you."

_Keep smiling like that. It's pretty._  
_STOP THIS!_  
_I can't. I know I must..._  
_Then stop thinking like a poet and think like a gentleman!_  
_But I can't. Not while she's here._

In spite of myself I kept on talking, to keep the grin on her face. "No, really. If I see him then I _will._..have a little word with him. I care for your safety on this expedition just as much as my own."

She tipped her head so her thick hair deliberately obscured her face. "Thank you."

Immediately feeling hot under the collar, I changed the subject. "Have you treated the wound?"

Her head tilted back to normal. "Yes. I think you have seen that I can heal bleeding injuries."

"True. It's such a deep wound though! Are you sure it'll be alright?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine."

* * *

Just as I was about to say: 'Well, I ought to be getting on with logging', Thomas' voice bounded across the clearing.

"Oi! 'Aytham!"

I jerked upright, snatching myself off the ground and brushing off my cloak.

"Yes?"

I could see him in the distance. He called out to me again.

"Come back 'ere! Wha' you doin' over there?"

Ziio laughed softly at the man's frustration. "I guess you had better get going."

"Wish me luck," I breathed.

"Thank you for teaching me how to duel."

"No worries," I replied. "I hope I will see you again soon."

With a spring in my step, I marched towards my accomplice cheerily.

* * *

"Wha' you smilin' at?" he asked when I had reached him.

"Oh, nothing," I lied, though I was inwardly beaming from ear to ear.

* * *

**OK, Some of you have requested more drama, but realistically. Keep reviewing and I will see what I can do! :) Thanks for reading :)**


	7. Guilt, Fear, Confusion

Guilt.

Guilt of the secrets that I possessed and was hiding from her. Guilt to my men that I was slowly drifting away from them. The admiration for me from the rest of the Templars was unbearable. They were desperate to find the secrets hidden deep in the precursor site. They assumed that I would have the same amount- if not more- of a desire to be rid of anything that stood in our way. They thought that I was driven by blind ambition alone.

But I wasn't. I wasn't even driven_ forward._

I was hurled into the air against my will, every time I looked into her eyes. I felt guilt dissolve every ounce of Templar in me. What if I ended up having to...to fight her people one day? Or her? Or worse? What if my men arose anger among Ziio's tribe? Or the other way round? And she had no clue why I freed her in the first place. I was still forbidden to speak of it.

Fear.

Fear of the future. Fear of the unknown. As a Master I was accustomed to be focused only on the future, and to never take my eyes off it. But I was torn astray in each blissful moment we shared. Every single second by Ziio's side was a haven for me. Yet the Templars are where my loyalties lay. That would _never_ change.

I knew I would end up having to choose one day. Ziio or the Templars.

With her, every tomorrow seemed irrelevant. Living for the present and the present alone. But with the Order I had duties that constantly needed my attention. Everything would be a disaster if I was not in the Order. _What am I to do?_

I knew how incredibly wrong it was to spend so much time with a Mohawk woman. Especially in the position I stood, with the responsibilities I bore. If we were found out meeting up...it will all be over.

One side of my head always screamed at me to run away from her. That I should stay away from her and her people. But this voice was always mute in her presence.

God, it felt good to be with her. I could never push Ziio to the back of my mind. Her spirit was always there with her flirtatious smirk, her glowing skin, her fiery brown eyes and long flowing plaits. Impossible to resist. It broke my heart when she said: "Remember, it is The Bulldog's men who want my people out of this land. Why...I am not quite sure."

I was left not knowing what to do.

* * *

**OK, that really was a short chapter but I just felt that it needed a little bit of emotion for Haytham before we continue. What do you think? **

**Thank you so much for ALL the support I've received! You have no idea how much I appreciate it :)**


	8. Cliffhanger (Part 1)

I remember it clearly.

The whole village was waiting longingly for the hunting patrol to return. Children began to whine at their parents, demanding food. Elders had started the cooking fire and were chatting merrily among themselves.

I walked along the clutter of wooden houses to find something to do. My stomach was growling like a feral beast, so I needed something to take my mind off dinner. In the end I sat down with the huddle of elders by the trees that lined the village.

"Hello, Kaniehtí:io," Nitika said, smiling feebly up at me. "You have come to join us!"

"Nitika!" I lowered myself onto a tree stump beside her. "How are you?"

"Not bad," she sighed.

I frowned. There was a hint of sadness glimmering in her eyes. "Is something troubling you?" I asked.

She waved me away. "No, no. It matters not. How are you, my dear?"

"Erm..." I paused. "Good. But Nitika, something appears to be on your mind. What is the matter?"

She held a hand to her forehead and huffed. "Well, it is not important. Only..."

"Only what?"

"My son," she replied. "I have fallen out with Koshisigre."

I clasped a hand to my mouth. "What? Why?"

This was shocking. When my father and two brothers were found murdered by Englishmen while out hunting, Nitika had helped my heartbroken mother to raise the remaining child: me. Her son Koshisigre had always been like a brother to me, as I'd lost my own. There were four years between us, and now at his age of nineteen, he was a strong young man and an extremely skilled archer.

But Nitika was hardly an easy woman to fall out with. What had sparked the argument?

"Well, it was something little at first. I must have asked him to help me a little more. 'You are a nimble young man, and I an elder,' I said to him, 'yet it is you who lazes about like a slumbering bear when there are jobs to do!'"

Other elders sitting nearby stopped what they were doing to "accidentally overhear" our conversation.

"And then...?" I pressed, ignoring them.

"And then he began to become annoyed. He said: 'How dare you accuse me, Mother! I am the one who has caught more meat for the Clan than some of the best hunters, even Ziio! I do NOT laze about like a slumbering bear!'"

"And...?"

"And I told him not to speak to his mother in such a manor," she continued, choking up tears. "That he should respect his elders, and in this case, his mother. Koshisigre claimed that nobody could tell him what to do: 'I am no longer a child.' That was before he snatched his bow and marched off to hunt."

"Oh, Nitika!" I offered her an embrace. "Do not let it worry you. He is at a stage in life in which he is carefree. Let him go, and he will cool his head while he hunts. He will want to apologize after he is back."

The old woman's head creaked slowly upwards. She smiled. "You are a wonderful child, Kaniehtí:io," she said. "Thank you for your console."

Suddenly heads all around us rolled towards the village entrance. Three of our men burst through a hedge in a frenzy. Mutters filled the air with suspicious hisses like snakes.

"The hunting patrol is back!"

"So soon?"

"They were not due now!"

"What are they doing so early?"

"But they have no meat!"

"Why are they running?"

"Why are they looking so worried?"

"I thought there were four men out hunting this afternoon."

They continued to sprint towards us. It was Heammawihio, Alo and Canowicakte, all red-faced and looking completely terrified.

Nitika stood bolt upright on her brittle legs. "Where is my son?" she asked. "Where is he? Where is Koshisigre?" her voice rose hysterically.

Heammawihio's eyes were bulging with trauma. He faced the old woman, panting. "No time! Quickly! Where are the ropes? He has fallen onto a cliff!"

"No!" she cried. She began to sob in distress. "What? How? Is he alright? Oh, my son, my son!"

He ignored her. "Kaniehtí:io! You deal with Nitika. Alo! You fetch the ropes. Canowicakte! See to it that Koshisigre is still holding onto the cliff. Go! Quickly!"

"Is he injured? Is he safe? Heammawihio, is my son alright?!" Nitika yelled between huge gasps for air.

"Koshisigre was standing a little too close to the edge. The rock beneath his feet was weak, and thin, and...and it crumbled. He fell almost straightaway! He gripped the edge and is still hanging on! No time! We must help him!"

* * *

**HAYTHAM**

It was only a small errand. Only one letter to deliver to Lexington. Could I not even do _that_ without running into Ziio? For my own good, I hoped so. For my own good _alone_.

But no. Not...exactly.

As I rode leisurely through the lukewarm afternoon sun, I couldn't help but feel disappointed that Ziio was not there. I had tried to tell myself:

_NO. She will NOT be there so do not expect to see her._  
_She has every single time I've ventured out._  
_Luck, it would seem. You have to stop thinking of her too much.  
Not luck. It seems to be a pattern._

I tried to exercise the thought that I would not see Ziio again for a while in my head. But it was pointless: I knew it to be false. With what I thought of the Mohawk at the moment, I would go _looking_ for her, if I had to. Indirectly, of course.

But I knew that even that was hopeless.

Until...

_Who is that running in the distance?_

I squinted. A young man dashed across the landscape in front of me. The unkempt black hair. The animal skin cloth. The frilled boots. I felt a rush of excitement. It could only be...

_A Mohawk man!_

I didn't realise what I was doing. I nudged my stallion into a trot. Was he running to me? No. He did not look focused that far into the distance. What would he be doing out here?

Now I was close enough to read his expressions. His eyes...they were stricken with terror. He sprinted determinedly towards his destination. _Where is he heading?_

That was answered when he spoke. He saw me riding by and he cried out: "Please, sir! You must help!"

"What is the problem?" I asked.

"No time to explain! Come, quickly!" He beckoned for me to dismount.

_Well,_ I thought, _the letter to Lexington will have to wait. _The young Mohawk indicated a cliff not far down the hill. "This way!" he shouted.

"What has happened?" I asked, breaking into a run.

"My friend has fallen off a cliff!" he panted.

I couldn't help it. It was instinct. "Who?" I demanded quickly.

"Koshisigre! He is down here! Come!"

I breathed a sigh of relief to myself. It wasn't Ziio. It was someone else. This man may not have even been in the same tribe as Ziio. But, it would be heartless to turn away now.

We stopped at the edge of the cliff. The man crept forward on his stomach. "I can see him. Koshisigre!"

* * *

**CANOWICAKTE**

"Koshisigre!" I cried out.

He strained to talk while clinging to the boulder below. "Canowicakte!" he croaked. "I cannot...hold...much...longer!"

"Please!" I called in a panic. "Try to hold on! Please! Help is on its way!" My heart was going to burst with all the adrenaline. Not _good_ adrenaline.

"I am trying! It is not easy!"

* * *

**HAYTHAM**

"Is the man alright?" I asked.

"He cannot hold on much longer! There are some of my people coming to help!"

_Ziio._  
_No! This is such an inappropriate time to be thinking of Ziio._  
_I cannot help it._  
_She will not come. She WILL NOT come. Now, focus on the Mohawk!_

"What would you have me do?"

"Do you have any ropes? Anything to treat wounds? Anything at all that would help?"

"Yes...I think." That was when and idea struck my head like a lightning bolt. The Wright Tavern! There were plenty of supplies to help there! And it wasn't exactly a far ride. "I know! I can go back to where I came from and fetch more supplies that would help."

"Yes, please do! Quickly!" the man pleaded.

* * *

It took but a few minutes.

I didn't bother tying up my horse. I burst into the Wright Tavern. People started backwards in their seats like I was some sort of contagious disease, gasping.

"Oh my!"

"He certainly made 'is presence known, didn' 'e?"

"Why is he in such a hurry?"

"He didn't 'ave to try an' break the bloody door off!"

I ignored them. I dashed straight into the inn, dodging tables, up the stairs, round the landing, into my room, round the bed, to the cupboard. I flung it open with such a force it nearly came clean off its hinges.

_I need bandages and rope. Bandages and rope._

My head scanned the shelves frantically. Did I even have any bandages? Yes. I did. I snatched at whatever looked like it might help, my mind in a whirl. At last my hands were full, so pivoting, I sprinted back outside.

* * *

**ZIIO**

Sometimes half an hour feels like half an hour, sometimes it feels like five minutes, and sometimes an hour. For Nitika and I, waiting for Heammawihio, Alo and Canowicakte to return dragged us through what felt like a year. Each passing moment in my hut was filled with a dull nothingness.


	9. Cliffhanger (Part 2)

**PART TWO- NOTE: **

**You may have noticed that at the very bottom of part 1 was 3 sentences of Ziio. THIS WAS A MISTAKE, it was supposed to be part of Part 2, so please ignore. :)**

* * *

Sometimes half an hour feels like half an hour, sometimes it feels like five minutes, and sometimes an hour. For Nitika and I, waiting for Heammawihio, Alo and Canowicakte to return dragged us through what felt like a year. Each passing moment was filled with a dull nothingness. Our own minds instead brimmed them with terror, tension and depression.

I couldn't bear the image in my head of Koshisigre, clinging onto a boulder with all his might, wincing and sweating with the effort choked tears into my eyes. Fear surged through my brain, raging inside my heart. I couldn't lose Koshisigre. I couldn't lose the boy I called my brother. My best friend, and Nitika's son. What if he was injured? Or lost? Or _worse_?

_No, no, NO. Do not think of that. He will be fine._

I could not convince myself this. I didn't have the energy or heart to be positive. The forces of darkness were too strong.

But it was obvious that Nitika had taken it the hardest. I led her back to my brush house to spend time in the quiet, away from the village. Silent tears oozed from her bloodshot eyes: she too did not have the might to howl. I curled up in the corner of my house, my arms wrapped around her and swaying from side to side.

"It will be alright," I whispered. But my words were empty. I could not even convince _myself_ that Koshisigre would be alright, let alone poor Nitika.

"If they do bring him back, and he is..." she trailed away. "He will have left this world after an argument with his mother. He will have left this world with no mother's love." She began to sob uncontrollably.

"Now, now," I soothed. I hoped that this would end soon; that there would be some news from the elders of someone of the hunting patrol's return.

But there was none for half an hour.

Until...

An elder limped hurriedly into my hut, his eyes dancing. "Nitika! Kaniehtí:io!" he panted. "Come outside! There is something you must see!"

"Is it Koshisigre?" demanded Nitika, sitting straight up like a bullet.

"Yes!"

"Is he alright?" I asked hurriedly.

"Well...he is injured, but he is alive!"

I hugged the old woman and we laughed in relief. The elder continued, watching our embrace with a reminiscent smile, perhaps recalling one person close to him. "But there is someone we have to thank! Come and see him!"

* * *

We came to the village entrance at break-neck speed. A crowd of elders gathered in a circle around a figure. As we approached we could see it: a young man lying on the floor.

"Koshisigre!" Nitika and I cried in unison.

We rushed forward, pushing past the crowd and knelt to him. There was a white bandage across his hand and around his left arm. He was good as unconscious. But he was alive. _Alive! _We gripped his warm hands. We whispered his name in shuddery breaths that he could barely comprehend in his state. He looked like he'd just been sent to his grave and back. It was a heart-rendering sight.

At last, Alo announced: "But it is this man we really have to thank."

I turned. My mouth dropped open silently. There, standing above me beside all the villagers, stood _him_.

"H-Haytham!" I gasped.

"Ziio." he replied, smiling broadly.

My mind was racing._ How did I not see him?_  
_Well, you were too focused on Koshisigre._  
_Oh my...he saved Koshisigre? Haytham? Saved him?_

"You saved Koshisigre?" I breathed in disbelief.

"Yes...I- I saved..."

"Thank you!" I cried. "Haytham, you saved him! We owe you with our lives!" I sprung to my feet and flung my arms around him. I let my head rest on his shoulder. His warm physique tensed in surprise, but his arms soon wrapped around my back. This closeness was enough that he could probably feel the pulsing of my heart and the tremors in my voice.

"It's- erm- it's quite alright," he responded, a little taken aback. The whole Clan emitted a silence so powerful that it forced Haytham and I apart. I stepped back.

_Did I just...did I just hug Haytham?_  
_It would appear so._

* * *

**HAYTHAM**

That evening I decided to stay.

Well, why not, when it was I who rescued the young man- no, but a boy in fact- from plummeting to his death. The tribes-folk were eternally grateful. It would seem somewhat rude to just disappear.

But it was Ziio I wanted to talk to most of all.

The way that she threw herself into my arms with such emotion- maybe even _love_...it was enough to melt my heart to fluid. It was enough to make the world around us stand still, in a blissful utopia. Only for a moment. Then it was gone.

But I wanted to see her again. I wanted to snatch that moment back.

The Mohawks busied themselves helping the poor young lad (who had suffered a sickening injury to the side of his head), darting in and out of one brush house, barking orders in uptight voices in their mother-tongue, which I dared not bother to try and comprehend. The sun retreated below the valley and plunged everything into darkness. Except for two lone flames; one coming from inside the brush house where the boy was being treated, and the other...by the village entrance. Sitting beside it was Ziio, all alone.

Like a roped canoe her spirit pulled me in. I found myself walking towards her, lust sparkling in my eyes.

_Here you are, Haytham, once again succumbing from an errand, to see a woman._  
_Succumbing? I saved the boy's life!_  
_Yes. But had he not been Mohawk, would you have batted an eyelid?_

I swallowed hard. I knew that this thought occurring to me was true. I had rescued the young Mohawk on the off-chance of seeing Ziio, and nothing else.

_You must not let this woman steal your heart. You have duties that she is distracting you from._  
_I know. But it is too late. She stole my heart on the day we met._  
_You are a Templar, not a poet. Remember this._

The orange flame lit up Ziio's soft face. The roots of tears glistened in her eyes. What was wrong? She started blankly into the flame and sighed.

I sat down beside her. Her head tipped upwards; her shimmering eyes detected me. The corners of Ziio's mouth twitched in the attempt of a smile. A very pathetic attempt indeed.

"I could not help but notice that something was troubling you," I improvised.

She sighed again, staring back into the fire. "It is nothing really. Only...Koshisigre is very close to my heart. I could not bear to lose him."

As a mixture of anxiety and jealousy rolled up into my throat, I asked: "Why?"

"He is like a brother to me," she replied. "We grew up side by side. We obscured nothing from one another. Now he is in danger, it's..." the tear in her eye trickled downwards.

_Don't just sit there! Comfort her!_  
_How? I've never been a man of consolation!_

But I couldn't. My muscles froze over in an instant when I tried. I opened my mouth to say something, to verbally wipe away her tears. No sound came out.

"He and his mother are the only family I have left," she continued. Another tear meandered across her cheekbone.

"It will be alright," I rasped. My voice was playing up on me like it had in the tavern. When I could bear to see Ziio so distressed no more, I at last put a shaking hand on her shoulder. "I promise it will be alright."

She sniffed. "Thank you, Haytham. I am sorry for my terrible state."

"That's...fine," I shrugged, "I too know what it feels like to be anxious like this."

She nodded. "As do I. But I have had to deal with far worse than this."

There was a long pause in which she poked a stick at the crackling fire. I savoured what she had said: '_I have had to deal with far worse than this.'_ I swallowed again: "If...if you'd allow me to ask...what has happened to you that is worse than this?"

Her head turned slowly. Her eyes, her blazing brown eyes surveyed me with a display of countless emotions: curiosity, pain, sadness. The burning beauty shot through my pupils, down my throat, into my stomach. It seemed to do a backflip. "I'm sorry," I gasped hurriedly, "I have brought back some bad memories, I can tell."

_Why on earth did you ask her that? Stupid, stupid bastard._

Ziio shook her head. "No, no! I do not mind sharing it with you!" She cleared her throat, adopting a grave tone. "When I was just a child, my father and two older brothers left the village to hunt. A beautiful summer's day it was...perfect for hunting. We all knew that on a day like that they would stay out long. They would want to savour the sunshine, catch as much prey as they could possibly carry. There were three others with them, too. One of them being Koshisigre's father. But when they were not back, even after nightfall, we all grew sick with worry." Ziio began to breathe faster. I put my arm around her shoulder to calm her. She continued:

"The patrol soon came back. It was...horrible." Her voice had become no more than a pitiful squeak. "Because in their arms were the bloodied corpses of my father, Helaku, Pallaton, Koshisigre's father and two other men. One of them was injured, but the other...d-dead." Her eyes were broken floodgates; streams of bitter tears rolled from them now.

I gasped in horror. "Ziio, that's dreadful! I'm sorry I even asked!"

She said nothing for a while. But when she leaned across and rested her head against my breast, my heart tightened. I looked round, to check that we were completely alone. "It is alright," she breathed.

"What happened?" I asked gently when I felt the time was right.

"The one survivor- Kitchi- recovered and told us about the events. They were walking by, and...Helaku caught sight of a British man. My brother was young and unafraid, and he acted on instinct. He had pulled out an arrow and shot the man dead before my father could scream: 'No, Helaku! Stop!' It was too late. Out of nowhere appeared at least five more men dressed in the same way. Their leader spotted the men in the bush before they could escape...and...he k-killed them. All of them." Ziio shuddered; the images were flashing violently before her eyes.

_Well, say something! Such a terrible story and you've not a word of comfort to Ziio!  
__What do I say?  
__Just let your heart do the talking._

Yet my heart felt too fatigued with all these feelings to 'say' anything. But I tried.

"Hey," I soothed. My hand slipped around her back again. "I understand. My father was murdered, too."

It seemed a very good recovery. "He was?" she asked.

I nodded. "I was just ten. My sister, too. She was kidnapped. I have not seen her since."

Ziio gasped. "Haytham that's terrible! I never knew!"

I shook my head. "It's sad, yes..." I sighed, "but...there are no happy endings to life."

She nodded in grim agreement. "Have you ever come to avenge the men responsible?"

"No."

"Neither," she huffed. "I don't know who it was. All I know is that their leader was a British man. He was in his thirties at the time, I think. He was not a redcoat, though. That is all Kitchi would say."

"Whereabouts were the attacks?" I pressed, praying for the mild assumptions in my head not to be true.

"Near a large manor house, not far to the East."

Realisation hit me like a blow to the stomach. I clasped a hand to my mouth.

_NO. It cannot be.  
It could be.  
No...but..._

"Johnson..." I gasped, hardly daring to believe it.

Ziio's head shot upright, making me jump. "What? Who?" she demanded.

"Nothing, nothing."

_William Johnson. _  
_No. It cannot be him. He has always been kind to the Mohawk people._  
_So he says._  
_But...he is the most moral man I know!_  
_Who else would it be? Washington was not..._

Anger, confusion and disbelief crashed through my veins. No. No! Not Johnson. Could it not have been the work of..._oh, what's the name?_ Achillies Davenport? No. His house was to the South from here. That left only...only...

Ziio's voice came drifting back in. "You are troubled," she murmured.

"No, no. I'm fine, thank you." The lie had escaped my lips before I could stop myself. I couldn't be more stunned even if I'd been shot in the back. William Johnson? Killing Mohawks? Surely that was against Templar protocol?

More cruel realisations. _No. That isn't true. The boy killed the man, so he deserved to die. By rights of the Templars. _I swallowed the bile in my throat.

_Take your mind off it. _

I surveyed Ziio's face in the light. How she made the soft contour of her cheek glow; how the tear streaks were charmed with a sad beauty. Her arms were like blocks of ice in the night air, yet she gave not a shiver.

"Your arms," I said. "They're cold."

She shook her head. "No, not really."

_This is the part in which I put my arms around her._  
_In an opera, yes. You're a man, Haytham. Not a poet._  
_Just do it._  
_No!_

I felt my stomach turn again. I pulled her a little closer to the fire. She made no attempt to stop me.

_Phew._

"I'm sure your friend will recover," I reassured her.

She smiled. "Thank you for comforting me, Haytham. And, of course, for saving Koshisigre."

"It was nothing."

"How did you find him?"

"I was riding for Lexington on a small errand. But I saw a man from your village running towards me, pleading for help. And so I rode back to Boston, fetched some rope and bandages, came back, threw the rope to him and we hauled him up."

She stared for a moment, stunned. "Such an act of kindness deserves more than just my gratitude. Our tribe is in your debt."

"Not at all," I shrugged. "It was just a good thing I happened to be passing."

"What were you riding to Lexington for, in any case?"

"Oh- it was something little. A letter to deliver there." That reminded me. "Oh, dammit. It's too late to ride back now. Too dark."

"That is not a problem. You can stay here."

_Stay._ My heart began racing again.

_Stay? With Ziio? _  
_In her village?_  
_In her company?  
For the rest of the night?  
_  
But I knew I couldn't. "Oh..." I itched my neck uncomfortably. "I would love to, but...my horse. I cannot leave it out here."

"We have a stable," she replied. "We can keep your horse in there for the night!"

"You do?"

"Yes!" her eyes glimmered with anticipation. "You can stay at my house."

"I- I..." Lost for words, I felt my throat close up, choking me for a split second. How long had it been since any woman had made me feel this nervous? _Too long._ "I'd love to. Thank you."

* * *

**DADADAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!**

**So it ends on a kinda romantic note!**  
**No, that's the end of "Cliffhanger", I'm afraid! **

**Was William Johnson responsible for the murder of Ziio's family?  
Will Koshisigre survive his injury?  
How will the other Templars react to Haytham's little night-time visit?**

Find out in the next update!


	10. Honest Reflections

**Hey! So I know everyone has been dying for the next update! Sorry for the wait. ****_WRITER'S BLOCK ONE, FRANKIE NIL! _**

* * *

When I woke the next morning, she had already gone.

_To check on the boy, perhaps?_ My eyelids flickered wide open. The fire Ziio had lit was long since extinguished. The same smokey scent swirled round my nostrils, waking me up slowly. Now I was alert enough to remember everything.

_I stayed overnight. _

I shook my head. The Templars wouldn't like this. Another errand I'd absconded from. But it wasn't like that. It was only right to help a friend in need of comfort. I must admit, I'd hoped for a little more than to _comfort _Ziio, even if it disgraced me to think of it._  
_

I rolled over and stood myself up, groaning. This wasn't going to go down too well with Charles, Thomas, Benjamin and William.

_William._

Had the company of Ziio not obscured the thought of him I would've been up all night thinking. Was it him who performed such terrible deeds to Ziio's family? I shivered at the thought. Such a modest man and such a heartless act: the murder of two men and two boys, injuring another. They could not possibly be linked.

But every cell in my body knew that he was the only one it could be.

* * *

I found Ziio by the boy's side in the next house along. The young man lay barely awake, his face shadowed by pain. The bandage wrapped round his head bore a large crimson stain that spoke for itself. An old woman sat beside Ziio and the boy on the floor, dabbing various liquids and tonics on his forehead.

Ziio and the old woman who I supposed was the boy's mother knelt together by his side. He held Ziio's hand feebly as she murmured dolefully in her language to the old woman. She looked up and saw me, a little surprised.

"How is he?" I asked softly.

"Recovering, " she replied. "He could have been a lot worse, but I fear for him."

"He will survive?"

"We think so."

A charged silence followed her words. I watched with slight sadness as the woman next to Ziio sniffed, watching her son with an air of grief. I knelt to inspect the deep scarlet dot seeping from the dressing. As I looked into his eyes, his narrowed brown eyes, I saw emotions in colours I'd never seen before. Pain, exhaustion, illness...but a soft contour of gratitude.

I couldn't help but think of the looks in the eyes of Ziio's family before their murder.

_William Johnson._  
_Do not think about him.  
William Johnson did it. William Johnson did it.  
Stop thinking about it!  
Won't William Johnson be furious when you return to your duties?  
STOP!  
_

I blinked, and the thoughts were gone. The old woman sniffed again. That was when I realised that this was no business of mine. A family matter that I had no place to intervene with.

"My apologies. It seems I'm invading your privacy."

"Not at all, not at all!" Ziio replied hurriedly. "You were the man who saved his life. You have every right to come in here."

I shrugged. "I suppose-"

A high-pitched voice interrupted me from behind. Everyone (the young man included) looked up in surprise. It was a Mohawk child, who had appeared at the doorway, panting and talking to Ziio. I watched her expression lift into a smile at his words. She pushed herself to her feet as the child began to run away.

"They want me to play with them in the valley," she chuckled in answer to my questioning look. "And they insist that 'the English man' must come, too."

Taken aback, I replied: "Err...well...alright. But Ziio, I really must be getting back to Boston."

"Their energy will not last long," she assured me.

"Fine."

* * *

But half an hour later Ziio and I were still dashing around like lunatics, playing 'tag' with the five or six little children on the lush green hills. A lot of surprises hit me that morning. One of which was that the young natives- between ages of around four and ten- were completely fluent in English. I simply loved their accents and difficulties in pronouncing certain words, which I could rattle off without thought. Believe me, I was not one to gawk at children and call them 'cute', yet I did find something odd about the Mohawk kids I hadn't felt before.

If Charles or one of the Templars had been there observing from a distance, they probably would not believe their eyes. How could their Grand Master – who could be as severe as he was deadly – be stood in a "savage" village chasing little children? I tried not to think about the other Templars too much. It would only remind me of how much trouble I would be in after this.

The children were eventually ushered away by their mothers, and it was just Ziio standing on the hill beside me. I glanced sideways at her while she watched them skip away with a kind of warmth in her face that I had rarely seen. Affection? I couldn't tell. Eventually she turned to face me, looking flushed.

"Shall we sit down?" I suggested.

"Yes. Here, by the tree." She indicated an oak nearby with spring wildflowers blooming underneath its roots. We sat beneath it together in the overgrown grass, catching our breath.

"Those children are very intelligent, you know. How is it that already they are fluent in English?"

"Oh..." Ziio picked a wildflower and twirled it between her fingers. "Our mothers and fathers all feel that we must know it and speak it like our mother-tongue. There are days, even, when the village speaks in nothing but English to help the children learn."

_Fascinating. But why?_

"I don't understand. What need would they have for such a skill at their age?"

Ziio continued to spin the flower between her index finger and thumb. "So that one day we may no longer be known as 'savages'. That we may be accepted by your people. One day."

_God, she has to say everything so awkwardly. Now what do I say?_

"I do not consider you a savage," I said defiantly. Was it my fancy, or did I feel blood rush to my face when Ziio diverted her eyes from me?

"Thank you. But many still do. It is a shame." She paused. She began to pick the white petals off the flower she held, letting them fall between her fingers to the grass. "I digress. We are all introduced to new skills at a young age, whether they seem relevant to us in hindsight or not. You, for one, learned to use a sword."

"I see."

I found myself watching the woman again. I knew it was rude, but I could not help but find the way that she peeled the daisies of petals attractive.

_This is trivial, Haytham._  
_I'm only looking at her._  
_Did your mother not teach you it is rude to stare? Besides, if you're going to stay here for now, say something. Don't be a waste of space._  
_What do I say?_  
_Compliment her?_  
_On what?  
Her ability to keep the children entertained?_

"The children of your village, they are a lively bunch, no?"

_That was pathetic._

"They never seem to run out of energy," Ziio sighed happily. "They are always asking after me to chase them."

"I never took you for a nanny."

"Meaning?"

"You're very good with the children."

She smiled that little coy smile that always made me fall a little deeper. "Thank you. But...once again, you sound surprised!"

"Do I?"

"Yes," she laughed.

"Pardon me. Just...you didn't..." how could I put this while not wishing to offend Ziio? "You didn't exactly appear, erm...gentle when we met."

She blinked. To my surprise, she didn't seem offended at all. "I was only wary of you because of the recent British behaviour toward my people," she shrugged. "It was all natural instinct. I did not want to show any sign of weakness." Ziio picked another flower and examined it. "Like all of nature. If you are not tough, you will not last the winter. Or any season."

"I had not thought of that." This woman sure did give me food for thought. I knew it was ridiculous to ask, but I had to check: "You do trust me now, of course?"

"What do you think?" she said dryly, nudging my arm. But I knew that she was being playful. That in itself answered my question.

Ziio's face became serious again. "Yes. Of course I trust you." And, to my amazement, she let the daisy slip out of her hand. She placed it into my own palm and squeezed it. I felt my heart tighten to bursting point. "What reason would I have not to trust you?"

I fought the raging nerves that washed away my senses, looking deep into those truthful brown eyes. "Well...I am of a completely different nationality to you, a completely different culture, different beliefs, plenty of deadly weapons under my belt...you get the idea."

"This is nothing new to me." She tightened her grip on my hand.

"I..." once again my words were lost somewhere in my throat. "Well, I suppose you have nothing to fear, then."

"I do not fear you. Quite the opposite." Ziio's gaze was fixed on my eyes.

"What do you mean?"

She grinned, her eyes sparkling. "I find you amusing."

"You do?"

"Yes."

_Thank her! Thank her!_  
_I...I can't._  
_Find your voice. _

"Thank you." Our eyes met again. In the deep brown irises I reflected on all we had been through and done: how not long ago if I had been looking at her, Ziio's face would've been sombre and troubled (though she concealed her fear largely well). Now her face was tender and...affectionate.

No. It seemed to far-fetched. But I knew it was true. There was a hidden message about her today somewhere. If only I could decipher it.

* * *

I left for Boston not long after. Ziio insisted I visit her again. But would that be too suspicious? I remember being terrified of how fishy my absence had seemed to the other four men. Well at that moment in time it didn't matter._ This,_ I thought, _was the most emotional meeting Ziio and I have had yet._

* * *

**DADADAHHHHHHH! I'm so sorry for the lengthy wait for Chapter 10. I've been so busy with my Youtube channel, school and other stuff. But don't think I abandoned YHMW! I haven't and I won't!**

**I hope you like it. :)**


	11. Duty Calls

"Ah, Master Kenway. A quick word?"

I froze. _Dammit. Another failed retreat to my bed chamber._ I turned to face four men staring expectantly up at me like children awaiting food from their mother. They sat at a table in next to the stairs, tankards topped almost to the brim.

Charles beckoned for me to come and sit beside him. I did as I was bade and lowered myself onto a chair.

"Yes, Charles?"

At the back of my mind I knew exactly what was about to be said, though I tried not to assume it._ Here it comes..._

"There is a matter of importance we need to discuss."

"Come along," I pressed.

No words were said by anyone. Only the jolly folk music and babble of merry voices behind us. The men either found something to stare at, like the table or their own lap, or (in Hickey's case) drained a gulp of ale. Only Charles looked at me with wincing eyes.

Frustration itched my patience. "Is anyone planning on speaking up?" I snapped.

Eventually it was Charles who spoke in an awkward tone. "Well, erm..." he looked at the others, desperate for support.

Hickey slammed his tankard down on the table. "Tha' Native woman." he stated plainly.

_Bollocks. I should have guessed they were going to talk about Ziio._

Charles and William glared at Hickey, possibly for giving a rehearsed conversation away. It was hard to take William seriously anymore, after what Ziio had told me about the merciless slaughter of her family. I swallowed uncomfortably.

"Yes..." I replied, a little more defensive than I had intended. A hot flush under my collarbone followed. "What about her?"

Charles took a swig from his tankard. I was heartily sick already of these long pauses between their words. Could they not just say their piece and be done with it?

"You...you have been spending...well, rather a lot of time away from here..."

"Yes...?"

"D-does she have something to do with it?" asked Benjamin gingerly.

_Why will none of them look me in the eye? This is awkward.  
Do I tell them the truth?  
No! What would it do to your dignity? Invent something as a cover.  
But how can anyone excuse being away for so long?  
You could try.  
No. I'll tell the truth._

"Well...I suppose you could say that. Yes. Why must it concern you?"

"Why must it concern us?" repeated Hickey hotly. "'Cause your tryin' to abandon your duties. Tha's why."

I wouldn't have been more insulted than if he'd spat in my face. "Not at all! Not at all! There is a good reason every time I have gone astray from Boston." I scoffed

"Oh, really?" Thomas hissed. "When we were loggin'. Was there a good reason not to be choppin' wood then? No. You were ge'ing cosy on tha' hill with your beloved savage."

I clenched my fists and opened my mouth to shout back at him. But I knew that he was right this time. Shame and anger burned my face to a bright shade of crimson.

"The thing is, Master Kenway, we often await your order." chimed William, a little calmer than Hickey. "But you are never here to take orders from, because you've galloped off with your Indian lady friend."

"She is not –"

"Please, Haytham." The desperation in Charles' eyes was apparent. "Calm down. We are trying to word this as earnestly as we can." He shot a dirty look across the table at Hickey (who in return curled his lip up like a snarling dog). "We are simply concerned. You seem very distant these days. You spend a lot of time with that woman; more time than we feel is necessary. Perhaps you could...stop visiting her for a few months?"

The power of his words hadn't quite hit me straightaway. This was exactly what I feared he would say; that I would be made a fool of in front of all these men who admired me so.

_How did they know that every time I have been away, it was to visit Ziio? Am I that obvious?  
How dare they make a folly of me!  
But they are right. You have duties.  
But...most of the times I have been with Ziio are accidental.  
Which is why they want me to stay away from her._

I was desperate to snatch Benjamin's still full tankard and drain down every last drop. God, they were right. I knew they were right, but...a few months without seeing Ziio? Would she feel like she was being ignored and become mistrustful of me once again? No. I didn't want to think of that.

And something deep down told me I'd miss her sorely. Though it didn't dare show itself on my face: I honestly tried to keep it as sombre as possible. I didn't want to say yes. But I couldn't exactly say no.

I swallowed the bile in my throat and sighed. "No, you are right, Charles. I apologise for my absences in the past few months. Perhaps this is the wake-up call I needed. Thank you. I shall devote all my time to the Order from now on. You have my word on it."

* * *

_This is all my fault,_ I thought as I lay down to sleep that night. I should've kept my visits to Ziio dispersed over time. It was too late now. As my father once said: 'It is unwise to have too much of a good thing.' That was true more than ever now.

How was I going to get the message across to Ziio that I was no longer allowed to see her? It was too risky to try and sneak off to the woods again. How would she react even if I could tell her? If only she could read my thoughts.

_Ziio, I'm so sorry._

I fell asleep with a very heavy heart indeed.


	12. The Bitterness of Summer

**Hey guys! Remember Chapter 7, where it was basically an emotional stream from Haytham? This one is the same but from Ziio.**

**I know it's become a little sad. Don't worry, it will get happier! Enjoy. :)**

* * *

Time passed.

The daisies swayed with the sighing trees for only one more month. The songbirds and furry scavengers were no longer miniature. The grass – once a vibrant inchworm – was now a dull, drained complexion. The sun no longer hovered in the sky watching us all with warm pride as if we were its children: it glared mercilessly down at the land, scorching every last scuttling creature, and causing thick steam clouds to rise from the rivers. With the humid air came thousands of mosquitoes, who lathed themselves onto the skin like black slime. We had been born largely resilient to their bite but never was the pain fully masked.

Summer was here, and not a word from Haytham.

I began to feel betrayed at first. I assumed that perhaps he had been otherwise busy, but...he could've at least called in once? Even the children were asking after him. Even Koshisigre – who, to everyone's utmost relief – had made a full recovery, wanted to thank him. I supposed I'd become too used to this pattern of his visits. I shouldn't have excited myself so. _Life is full of enough disappointments as it is._

I knew that just under six months ago I despised the man. My only desire was to be as far away from him that is physically possible. But he hurled me out of my orbit of hating the British, wanting to kill the British, igniting trouble for the British. I know by now that to convert a woman like me would take more patience than I dared to imagine. But the fact that Haytham _did_, and that he wanted to...it made me feel valued by him. I liked that.

Perhaps I liked it a little too much. How stupid of me to soften at the edges and learn to _love_ something. Hadn't I already learned from life not to become too close to anyone, or my heart would only be broken (as it already had been a thousand times, it seemed)?

No matter how much I tried to build this protective layer around myself again, I couldn't stop the feeling. The feeling I wanted to deny so badly, yet couldn't. The feeling that both pierced my heart and sent it beating faster.

_I miss him._


	13. To Catch a Bulldog (Part 1)

**HAYTHAM**

I tried not to think of her too much.

It would only lead my concentration astray again. That was the very last thing I wanted. But occasionally I would let my thought stream wander back to that bronzed face; that deerskin dress and those pools of deepest brown in her eyes. It didn't matter what I was doing at the time. I wasn't sure how I'd linked what was taking place around me to Ziio in most incidents. I would wonder what she thought of me now, and whether she missed me as much as I did her.

* * *

**ZIIO**

There was something about the peculiarity of Boston that made me feel uncomfortable.

Perhaps it was the cacophony: the thousands of tones and languages splintering the air. Perhaps it was the unusual concept of actually being able to blend in among the city folk, without "savage" being sneered into my ears. Supposedly that was a good factor, but it was not what I was used to. It was somewhat odd. Perhaps it was its altogether rich content. There was so much to see, hear, smell and feel that it dizzied my head.

Either way, it was all too much. Boston was simply everything and nothing of what I'd ever seen before. The misty air was mingled with so many scents attempting to flavour the city: smoke, the tinge of metal wood, horse manure and many more. _Nothing like the forest._

The buildings seemed to stand tall and pompous in their pride, as people scampered the streets at their feet. Each person seemed to be engrossed in their own little world, oblivious to the fact that Boston was such a busy place with so much to see.

I had loved coming here for the first time. But that was once. Not anymore.

From what I had been told, the tavern I stood by was where Haytham was staying. The afternoon sun lit up faded gold letters that barely read: _The Wright Tavern_. I groaned inwardly. So far I'd had a terrible experience in pubs and brew-houses like this one. Just because this was Boston – where anyone of any nationality seemed to belong – would not make much difference.

_This will not be much fun,_ I thought, turning to open the door.

When I entered, my nostrils were immersed in the musky stench of beer, batter, smoke and polished wood. The air was so thick with fumes from nearby candles that I could barely see. I wondered why they needed the candles for light, anyway: outside the sun was beaming down, the rays stretching through a few tiny windows. Musicians let their instruments warble in unison, so all the babble of contented voices was raised in order to overpower the tune. Men huddled together around the tables, gulping down the contents of their tankards happily.

But it was a table right in the corner of the room that caught my eye. I suppose I recognised a few of the men sat round it. But where was the man I was looking for? One of them with jet-black hair (held back by a red ribbon) and a triangular cap turned his head slightly. _Aha. There he is._

As usual, Haytham still hadn't seen me. He and the other three men were watching a savagely drunk fourth man of their own. He swayed on the spot by the fireplace, clutching his tankard and giving some sort of slurred speech. The only words I caught were: "On the cold, cold ground..." before throwing his empty tankard to the floor.

All the men – Haytham included – gave a loud cheer. One of them bellowed: "Here, here!" in a slightly Irish accent.

I rolled my eyes. _So this is what Master Kenway has been up to. _I decided all of a sudden that I'd do what I usually did and surprise him with a dry joke. The last person he'd expect to see in this tavern was me.

* * *

**HAYTHAM**

I felt delicate fingers brush against my shoulders; I nearly choked on my ale in surprise. Before I could turn around to see who was behind me, the mystery figure spoke.

"Hard at work, I see?" The voice was soft yet flirtatious; dry but amused.

I swivelled round in my chair...and for a moment I wasn't able to swallow. It was Ziio, leaning so close to the side of my face that our cheeks were nearly touching. My heart began pounding in my chest.

_How didn't I hear her coming?_  
_What took her so long to come?_  
_How did she know I am here?_

"How did you...?" were the only words I could manage.

She laughed coyly, shrugging. "It is time. I have set up camp to the North. Meet me there."

And as quickly as she had appeared, Ziio was headed for the door. I still hadn't quite got over the sight of her. First of all came embarrassment, for not apologizing for being away for so long. Not only that, but also for the fact that she'd caught me at the wrong time: drinking. Soon after I'd finished marvelling over what had just happened, I snapped back into focus. A new determination filled my heart.

I turned to the rest of the Templars (who hadn't seemed to have spotted Ziio). "Gentlemen," I announced, "let us away."

We all rose in unison and headed for our horses outside: the mission to hunt a Bulldog had officially begun.


	14. To Catch A Bulldog (Part 2)

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: I am SO SO SO sorry for my enormous gap between updates. If you've lost interest then I understand: it's been two weeks, for goodness' sake! I did post a video on my YouTube channel apologising but I doubt many of you have seen my channel unless it was on my profile! Anyway, enjoy and despite revision/exams, I will try my best to update more often.**

* * *

**ZIIO**

It was clear that Haytham still underestimated me. I rolled my eyes as I closed the inn door and headed for my horse. I could see that he wanted to say something, but the only words that slipped from his tongue were: "How did you...?"

I certainly hoped that he hadn't had too much to drink. I didn't fancy the idea of being the only sober woman on the mission. Though I knew I _was_ in fact, the only _woman_ on this mission. I needed to focus (especially if I was dealing with that drunkard.)

I rode for the Frontier with a forceful determination playing across my face. I knew this was not going to be entertaining, but as any good leader should, I tried to cover up my disinclination.

On the plus side, the lush green trees and pollinated air were beginning to emerge on the horizon as I galloped. No more stench of metal; no more murky streets and dense crowds lingering in my path like herds of wild beasts. My muscles relaxed as a summer breeze sailed through my hair: I was home.

When I dismounted, people from the Abenaki, Lenape and Shawnee tribes were waiting for me. A bald man in a green tunic approached. I recognised him as the Shawnee leader.

"Kaniehtí:io," he said in my own language, "We have made all preparations that you requested. Many of our men are in position; they await orders from the Englishmen."

I nodded in gratitude. "Good. Tell the others that the Englishmen will be here soon, and ask the other tribes to begin basic preparations also."

He dipped his head, before turning around and sprinting down the steep hill, bellowing instructions to men who supposedly stood on the hill below.

_Well, everything looks like it's in order. Now we just need Haytham._

* * *

**HAYTHAM**

"I see you've been busy," I remarked as I walked to join Ziio.

Perhaps she was slightly vexed about me not visiting, because she ignored me. "All these men are from many different tribes," she said, getting straight down to business, "united in their desire to see Braddock sent away."

I bowed my head to three Mohawk men, each in different clothing to one another.

"The Abenaki, the Lenape, Shawnee..." as Ziio spoke their tribal names, the men eyed me suspiciously. Perhaps I seemed uncomfortable in the dense forest air, or the royal blue clothing which I wore. Either way it was clear I didn't belong.

A silence heavier than the humid atmosphere followed. "And you?" I asked, turning to face her. "Who do you stand for?"

A thin smile played across her face. "Myself."

_Myself._ Was she hinting that she'd been lonely for the past few months?_ Oh, why do women have to drop hints? _It itched my nerves more than the blooming mosquitoes buzzing around my head.

I felt the need to say something; to apologise for my absence or to make myself useful. As Ziio and I were not alone, I settled on being useful.

"What would you have me do?"

Those brown eyes which I had missed so sorely met my own. But they were not giving a shimmering or tender gaze: more of an opaque, rigid stare. Had Ziio lost all trust in me? A sinking sensation made me fall deeper. What if, while I was away, she'd been building up her iron-hard outer layer again? _Oh god, not this again. It was tricky enough the first time round._

But the words she said were calm: "We will help the others to prepare." With that perfectly clear, she turned on her heel and began to march down the precipitous hill. "Follow," she ordered.

* * *

It was apparent that Ziio had some sort of grudge against me, so I decided that by working diligently I would redeem myself. Thomas and I set about building tall barricades with other Mohawks and preparing weapons.

"Benjamin was right, you know. It is too god-damned hot," moaned Hickey.

On this occasion I could not agree with him more. I sighed. "I know. But we must work, no matter the climate of America."

Hickey bent double loading a rifle, before handing it to a Mohawk like it was the hardest thing in the world. He wiped his forehead, which – like mine – was glazed over in sweat. That was when Ziio decided to show up behind me.

"Making progress, it seems?" she asked, a little more gently than beforehand. I was hopeful that she'd snapped out of her foul mood for a moment...only to realise that she wasn't even talking directly to me, but to the group as a whole.

"I suppose you could say that," I huffed.

She spoke a short word in her incomprehensible mother-tongue, before turning to me. "Haytham, I need a little help on the hill with a few things. Would you be willing?"

_Why isn't she looking me in the eye? Is she cross?_

No.

Her voice had not sounded annoyed, so...was she...was she shy to ask for help from me? It wasn't unlike Ziio to be coy, but this time I was not sure. A felt a wrenching sensation in my stomach.

"Yes, of course." I nodded to Hickey. "You're in charge," I told him.

As Ziio and I scrambled up the hill, I couldn't help but feel that now we were alone, something was still wrong. She stared coldly at her own feet, and paid me no attention. I swallowed. Was now the time to apologise? I tried my luck.

"Erm, Ziio?"

To my surprise, she stopped in her tracks. "Yes?"

How was I going to word this? "Are you..." I glanced around the clearing to check that nobody was listening. But all around us the men seemed occupied. I leaned forward to whisper in her ear: "Are you slightly irritated by me? For not visiting you for the past few months?"

Ziio blinked. The metal doors over her eyes vanished in an instant; the melting gaze was back. "No. Not at all. I assumed that you had been otherwise busy, but I...I suppose I had hoped for you to come at least once. Why?"

I shook my head. "Oh, never mind, then. I...I just wondered, that's all. My men gave a little speech of how I had been absent for too long. I felt terrible; I wanted to come to you and explain that they were growing suspicious. So, I'm sorry..."

She nodded. "It is fine, Haytham. I understand. Though, you did not seem very 'busy' when I entered the tavern..." she flashed a mischievous smirk.

"You just came at a bad time," I chuckled, nudging her. She punched my shoulder playfully in return.

_Thank god, old Ziio is back!_

* * *

After I had taken care of everything on the hill, Ziio lay down in the grass and watched from the cliff. I was bewildered for a moment, especially when she beckoned me to do the same. I crept forward on my stomach and followed her gaze. She was looking down into the woodland below.

"That is where the Bulldog will come from," she murmured into my ear. She pointed to a dusty path, resembling that of the one which I rode to her camp. "He will arrive soon enough. This is the best place to observe his approach."

I wasn't really listening. Was it my fancy that my heart momentarily beat at double speed when I realised that our flanks were touching? I was enjoying this proximity to Ziio more than I had in a long time. I supposed I had missed her, in my own way.

_So immature. Focus, Haytham!_

"Is it clear when we must strike?" she checked.

"I will know," I shrugged, staring through the vegetation below, "believe me."

In fact, her predictions were right. It wasn't long at all till we heard the clip-clop of hooves against the dust and boots thumping in unison across the path. I felt Ziio's muscles tense against my own when Braddock was in sight: I knew how much she loathed him. I too felt hatred burning through my veins at the sight of Braddock sitting regally on his horse, flanked by George Washington, a cart, guards on foot and...his blood-red coat. A souvenir of his betrayal, I thought. A symbol that he was my brother no more.

"They come," said Ziio simply. I felt her fingers brush against my arm; the muscles underneath her touch relaxed. I took a deep breath. This was it. This was why Ziio and I had even met in the first place. _This had better not go wrong._

We watched in silence as the patrol crawl up the path like a band of red ants. Muffled words were passed from Washington to his commander, which sounded like: "Everything all right, sir?"

"Just...savouring the moment," sighed Braddock. "No doubt many wonder why it is that we've pushed so far west. These are wild lands, as yet untamed and unsettled."

Ziio's fist clenched on my back. I could almost feel sparks of her fury spitting at me.

"But it shall not always be so. In time, our holdings will no longer suffice. And that day is closer than you think."

_No it isn't, Edward,_ I thought. I wanted nothing more than to knock the confidence clean out of his voice. Moreover, to drain any sound from his lips to a jubilant silence. But I my senses weren't clouded by impatience.

For Ziio, this was not the case. Ardent for the fall of the Bulldog, she sprung up on all fours like a predator ready to pounce. "Now is the time to strike," she hissed, while Edward was talking about needing more land below.

I put a hand on her back to stop her jumping to her feet. "Wait. To scatter the expedition is not enough. We must ensure that Braddock falls, else he's sure to try again."

_Hm...how am I to do this?_  
_Perhaps I need to approach Edward with stealth._  
_Disguise?_  
_Perfect.  
_

"I'll disguise myself as one of his own and make my way to his side. Your ambush will provide the perfect cover for me to deliver the killing blow."_  
_

She nodded. It seemed a fair compromise, and a much better plan. But I knew it'd be a gruelling job. Well, it was for a good cause.

I pushed myself to my feet. _Let's get this over with,_ I thought.


	15. To Catch A Bulldog (Part 3)

"We await your signal," whispered a Mohawk scout as I edged past him.

He was not the only one whose anticipated eyes surveyed me. All three of the Natives peered up at me from where they had stashed themselves in hiding places. I must admit, I was inspired by the third man's guise. He crouched low in the overgrown ferns. His khaki tunic looked inconspicuous against the green vegetation. A very clever trick of nature, I thought.

_Now, to reach Braddock undetected, I need to be disguised. For that, I'll need a uniform._

I groaned inwardly. That meant a bit of bloodshed. But were there any stray redcoats near enough to kill?

I would have to come closer and see. I stooped through the swishing ferns, shielding my face with my hand. The Mohawk already in the ferns could sense what I was looking for straightaway.

"There, in front of us."

I winced through the leaves to see where the man was pointing to. It was to a small band of men a short distance down the hill. One of them stood slightly further away from his six or seven comrades. Only a little further back, but far enough for me to distract him.

Now I needed a spot to kill my target. That question didn't take me long to answer either: almost next to the stray redcoat was a small pile of rotting leaves. It was only just bulky enough to hide my entire body, I calculated.

I sidled silently along the ferns and dived into the pile of leaves. They made a crunch as I landed...but that was all it needed. A not-too distant voice came closer and closer to the pile. I waited with a ready blade. At last I seized my chance, lunging forward, ejecting my hidden blade. The deed was done before the man could cry for help. Well, that was one job out of the way. _Now, just somewhere to put the disguise on..._

* * *

**ZIIO**

I cannot even remember why I was walking past my tribe's barricade. Perhaps it was to check up on my comrades, or to find another weapon. Whatever the reason was, it was trivial compared to the distraction. I would've minded my own business, like I usually do. Until I heard my father's name.

My legs were paralysed before I realised what I was doing. But now, I wish I had not listened.

Behind a bush, Alo was having a hushed conversation with Kitchi. Nobody else was around. Curious upon hearing my father's name, I crept closer.

"But...Kitchi...are you sure?"

"I'm certain," came his reply.

"It was a long time ago, Kitchi. How do you even remember what he looked like?"

_What are they talking_ _about?  
Listen, Ziio. You will find out._

"It's the accent," Kitchi hissed. "The accent from...oh, I cannot remember the name of the land. Near where the Englishmen come from."

"Ireland?"

I froze. A terrible feeling clawed my stomach.

"Yes, that's the one. I'm certain it was him. He was the one there on that terrible day!"

"It was not one of the Bulldog's militia?"

"No. His coat was brown! I promise you, Alo!"

My throat began to tighten with every word.

"Which one do you mean? The one with the black hair that rescued Koshisigre?"

_Haytham. Where does Haytham come into this?_

"No. Not the one that Ziio keeps running off with. I mean the one with the brown hair and bushy beard."

My heart was hammering so loudly that I was afraid they might hear me. I shuddered like winter had come early.

"Are you sure?"

"How many times?" Kitchi snapped. "I'm convinced. It was one of their organisation."

"The Templars?"

_Templars. Is that a word I have heard before?_

"How do you know the name?" Kitchi sounded surprised above anything.

"I cannot remember. I have heard it said before, though. I thought you might know as you were the one shot by the man?"

"No. All I remember is that there were five or six of them on the day. Helaku shot one of them, by instinct. His father told him to stop, and –"

A sickening boom splintered the air. All three of our heads jerked in surprise. I tried to figure out where the epicentre of the explosion was...but I was too far away. Birds squawked their warning cries to one another and burst from trees.

"What was that?" whispered Kitchi.

"I don't know," replied Alo. "But whatever it was, it did not sound too promising."

I knew it could mean one of two things: the ambush had begun...or (my heart began to beat faster) Haytham was in danger. _No._ That was assuming the worst. Haytham could take care of himself. Whichever one of the two the explosion meant, it was my call to action. I drew my knife out of its case, and headed for the source of the noise.

* * *

**HAYTHAM**

_At last. _I had this savage of a man, who bathed in his confidence and blood of others, at gunpoint. Adrenaline seared through my body like the bullet Edward was about to receive. The smugness had vanished from his face; anxiety played across his eyes. This was what I had been waiting for. This was the moment that I would finally end the misery of the Mohawks. My head chanted a mantra; a battle-cry that became louder and louder with my every heartbeat.

_Do it. Do it. Do it._

"Come on, then!" roared Edward, letting go of his horses' reins.

_Do it! Do it! Do it now!_

My finger latched onto the trigger. But the shot did not come from my gun. Before I knew what had happened, my horse gave a blood-curdling squeal, and I felt myself falling, falling...

I hit the earth with a dull _thump. _The lifeless horse's flank was cushioned by my leg, as it too toppled to the forest floor. I writhed myself free from under the dead animal, whipping around in alarm.

What faced me now made my heart stop dead. My lungs became paralysed; I couldn't breathe.

Staring back down at me was the glinting musket of George Washington.

* * *

**ZIIO**

I didn't stop to think what I was doing. I didn't care if I'd been heard or not. I sprinted down the hill towards the river. Aggressive male voices rose like the steam from the water. I could tell they were both English.

_Boom_. Another gunshot crackled through the air.

"Such, arrogance," I heard a voice hiss, "I always knew it would be the end of you!"

The voice did not belong to Haytham.

_Which means..._  
_He's in trouble!_

"Haytham!" I cried aloud without thinking. I burst down the steep hill; past the Natives like me and barricades; bushes and trees; earth and grass. My heartbeat was in time with my own footsteps. Brambles tore at my boots, but I didn't care. Haytham could be dead, or dying. _No._ Not if I hurried.

A clearing emerged from behind a fringe of leaves. It was the riverbank, where stood three horses and three men: some apparently dead, some alive and one floundering on the bank.

I was close enough to see what was happening, now. Enclosed in a circle of two men lay a limp horse and...Haytham. I gasped in terror. It was George Washington, who held him at gunpoint.

I charged with all my strength, leapt up behind Washington and shoved him clean off the saddle. I didn't wait for his body to fall, either: I knelt, whipped out my knife and pressed it against his throat. I glared up at the stunned Bulldog.

"Don't." I spat at him fiercely.

Haytham looked sideways at me in relief and gratitude, but Braddock saw his chance. He slipped off his horse and began dashing through the river at breakneck speed.

"Hurry, before he gets away!" I bellowed at him, furiously beating back Washington. He wriggled and kicked out like an angry infant, his fist eventually colliding with my forehead. It throbbed for a moment, but my distraction levels did not falter. For Haytham, this wasn't the case. He didn't move.

"I SAID GO!" I roared over the blood pounding in my head. Washington continued to struggle in vain; my knife slipped from his throat. I quickly recovered as I thrashed the hilt of the weapon against his head. He squirmed like an insect; I stuck him again and again. At last, when he was unconscious, I whipped my head around to see where Haytham was, panting.

But this was no time for sightseeing. A distant warning call from one of my own tribe told me that some of Braddock's men were coming. I dived for the nearest cover: back into the thicket, as quickly as I possibly could. The mission was complete.


	16. The Cave

"It is done." I tried to conceal the slight regret in my voice: Braddock had once been a friend to me. Those days were over.

Ziio said nothing: she pressed something round into my palm, turned on her heel and started to walk away. I opened up my fingers to find it was the amulet. I hadn't remembered that she'd kept it. The key to this all-important mission, and I had been distracted by a Mohawk woman. How strange of me.

_Well, is that it?_  
_No. Ziio would not behave like this. _

"Well," I huffed, "I've upheld my part of the bargain. I expect that you will honour yours?"

Ziio froze mid-step. She turned again to face me, her gaze soft. Perhaps that was what she was going to do, anyway. Blood rushed to my face in embarrassment.

"Follow me," she murmured.

* * *

The setting sun spilled across the riverbank as we rode. I had no clue where Ziio was taking me and I was not going to ask. I trusted her now. I always had, really.

We rode in silence. It seemed intense; even when I was thinking to myself.

_So, this is the end. This is all I will ever see of Ziio._  
_No. That is not really true. I am sure we will remain friends and allies._  
_Friends? You doubt yourself, Haytham. You two are more than that._  
_One can never be sure..._  
_Precisely._

I stole a glance at Ziio in the sunset. The gleaming rays illumined her face like a candle lights up the dark. I couldn't help thinking how beautiful she was; how enchanting she really was on both the inside and out. I knew that I had sorely missed her in these past few months. I couldn't bear to think what it would be like after the Braddock Expedition. The Templars no longer needed contact with the Natives, so any times I saw her from now on would be extra suspicious. I would _have_ to find a way that we could stay in contact. I'd _have_ to.

* * *

The stars had begun to emerge by the time we reached our destination. The moon's gentle gleam peaked through the ever-blackening clouds. I was surprised when Ziio dismounted in front of...

A cavern.

So, this was where the amulet belonged. Rustic, I supposed. But well-disguised.

I jumped off my horse and tied him to a tree nearby. Ziio led on down a dark passage, before we reached...

It took my breath away. I had ever seen anything so supernatural, yet beautiful. On the cave wall inside were lines of cyan light, glowing even brighter than the stars. How was that possible? I shook my head in amazement.

"Wow..."

Ziio nodded to me. I walked up to the wall, and pressed the amulet into a small hollow. I tasted the heavy air, and held my breath.

_This is it. This is what I have been working for._

I closed my eyes and imagined what was behind there. An artefact? A hidden room? Or even, something bigger, or better? My heart began racing.

But when I opened my eyes, nothing had happened.

"No...no!" Disappointment's bitter blade had stabbed my heart. My eyes flicked desperately from the amulet to Ziio to the door. This wasn't right. This _had_ to be the key. The markings on the stone matched that of the symbols on the wall! I pressed the amulet further into the hollow, closing my eyes and praying.

Nothing happened. I tried again, and again once more...to no avail.

_All this dedication...a__ll this work...a__ll this, this excitement...f__or nothing. Nothing._

"You seem disappointed," Ziio noted, with just as much despondency in her voice as I felt.

"I thought that I held a key that would open something here." My fists clenched over the wall in anger. If this was not the right place...where was? It would take even longer. More effort, more time, more application. My heart swelled and tightened in my overwhelming emotions. This was incredulous. What was I going to tell the others? If I was any less of a man, I would have tears pricking my eyes.

"This room is all there is." Ziio confirmed what I had feared. She turned away and paced on the spot for a moment, before facing me again.

"I expected more," I sighed after a depressing silence. Immediately I was ashamed of myself; of my gratefulness to Ziio (or lack of it). As the cyan lights rippled across her eyes, I realised that she was...hurt. The bitterness of my own words had stung her. She had gone to all this effort to bring me here; perhaps a special place in her heart...and I had the nerve to be so unruly.

_Apologize!_  
_Say thank you!_  
_Change the subject!_  
_What?! Change the subject? Are you insane?_

"What do they mean?" Not knowing what to do, I pointed to the symbols on the luminous cave wall. It was the best recovery I could come up with, and it was not a bad escape.

Ziio seemed to look through the opaque rocks for a long time before she spoke. "It tells the story of Iottsitíson, who came into their world..."  
She began to sail closer with every word that left her lips.

"And shaped it for what life might come..."  
The distant look in her eyes...I was certain there was a hidden message behind it when they sparkled at me. She circled me, slowly, gracefully.

"She had a hard journey..."  
Had I ever appreciated her sun-blessed face enough? My heart was tightening like the dense atmosphere.

"Fraught with great loss and peril."  
I had never seen her so passionate about anything. Even from the back, she looked lost in the story.

"But she believed in her children, and what they might achieve."  
She turned to face me. Never more had her stare melted my stomach to fluid than at that moment. All breath I had become staccato, shuddery.

"And though she is long gone from the physical world..."  
She was coming closer. Dangerously close. My insides squirmed with every elegant step Ziio took. Closer to me.

"Her eyes still watch over us..."  
She was behind my back now. I could feel her body heat blazing against my own. My heart pounded faster, louder.

"Her ears still hear our words..."  
Her delicate fingers caressed my shoulder with the utmost tenderness. The muscles tingled under her touch. What was Ziio doing to me? My mind was racing; confused, enlivened.

"Her hands still guide us..."  
Her fingers slipped slowly, seductively down my arm. I struggled to breathe. Adrenaline seared through my entire body. My heart was nearly at bursting point.

"And...her love still gives us strength."  
Ziio's hand cradled itself in my own leather glove. Was this real? I gasped at her touch. My head was whirling like a sea storm, throbbing with the effort to keep breathing.

_Look at her._

Her gaze was amorous, affectionate, unmoving. I felt like a hot flame was running around inside me, burning up my heart and mind as it did so. I could tell Ziio wanted something: it was clear as crystal; her eyes begged for me. But I couldn't think straight. My heart just kept on pulsing.

_No._  
_This is against the rules._  
_Against the Templars._  
_Against nature._  
_I am English, and she Mohawk._

_Do it! Do it now!  
Say something._

"You have shown me great kindness, Ziio..." I rasped. "Thank you."

Silence. More charged than the atmosphere; than the fire in my soul; than the lights in Ziio's beautiful brown eyes.

_Do it._

"I..." I stammered, shifting uncomfortably, "I should go."

Her tender fingers outstretched; they brushed my cheek. They pulled me closer.

_What do I do?_  
_Close your eyes. Let this moment happen._

Sparks flew between us. Our lips were touching. I was melting with every second. I was no longer afraid. This was what had made the journey worthwhile: two intertwined hearts, beating in time. Two different peoples, colliding in an explosion of passion. Two racing minds, thinking along the same lines. Two lost souls, melting under each other's embrace.

It could have been seconds; it could have been minutes before we broke apart. We sighed, an inch apart from one another.

"I'm sorry you did not find what you seek," Ziio whispered.

"No...it's...it's fine..."

"You said you must go..." she whispered.

"No..." I breathed. "I'll stay...I'll stay with you."

She led me into her embrace again.

* * *

**DADADAAAAAAA!**

**Phew, this was REALLY hard to write but well worth it! The BIGGIE of the story, and here it is! What do you think?**

**NOTE: In my story, this is NOT the part where Connor is conceived. But even when I DO write that, it's not going to be detailed, because:**

**a) I'm only 14, so that would be kinda wrong...**  
**b) A lot of adults that I know in person read this.**  
**c) It's best to leave that kind of thing to the reader's imagination. It's more rewarding.**

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	17. No Sense

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* * *

So much passion, so much desire, and countless emotions all in one kiss from his lips. I had no doubt about the feelings locked deep down in my heart now – I had stopped arguing with what I wanted most. I loved Haytham with all my mind, heart, soul, strength. How sensational it was to spend time together that night. How my heart fluttered when our lips touched a second time. How I longed to be by his side again.

But along with this feeling came fear. Fear of the future, tearing my wishes to pieces. What if my people disapproved? What if his accomplices caught us red-handed? It didn't matter at that moment in time, but I still wondered if I should tell anyone.

The only person I felt I could entrust with what happened was Koshisigre.

I walked past his brush house one afternoon to the sound of whispered voices again. I peered inside the house entrance, quickly ducking to avoid detection. This time it was Alo, Koshisigre and Kitchi.

_Strange. It was Alo and Kitchi having a whispered conversation about my father last time._

Recognition hit me like an arrow in the head. _My father_. He was murdered, alongside...

Koshisigre's father.

I couldn't help it. I leaned against the wooden wall outside to listen.

"So...what are you suggesting, Kitchi?" asked Koshisigre.

"I'm suggesting," he replied, "that one of those men murdered your father. And almost Kaniehtí:io and Oiá:ner's entire family. I remember him clearly. He was wearing the same coat!"

_The same coat. What colour? Not...the same as Haytham's, surely?  
Stop making assumptions, Ziio!  
__Why are they talking about Mother and I?  
Listen._

"Which one? Not the one who saved my life?"

"No, not him!" he snapped. "His accomplice."

"A Templar?"

"What's a Templar?" asked Koshisigre.

"Do you remember nothing Achilles Davenport told us?"

"No."

"Achilles is an Assassin, yes?" said Alo.

"Yes."

"The Templars are enemies of the Assassins, and – if Achilles spoke the truth when we saw him – are notorious for cruel acts. Do you see? That man was a Templar."

I prayed for my heart to stop beating so loudly.  
_So that is where I heard the word 'Templar' from. _  
_But...Haytham is an Assassin! He has the same blades as Achilles!_

My mind relaxed a little. Perhaps the man whose hands were stained with Mohawk blood was _secretly_ a Templar. But I could never be sure. I knew that Haytham was not a so-called 'Templar', at least.

"Oh," Koshisigre replied, "so the man who rescued me..." he gasped. "Was he a Templar?"

"Quite possibly," Kitchi anxiously.

_No!_ I wanted to yell: _No! No! No!  
__I look suspicious listening here. I need to move._

My mind still racing, I headed for the village entrance. I needed to walk in the woods and think.

* * *

I received many suspicious stares as I climbed over the thicket (which we called the village entrance). Ignoring them, I carried on walking, staring at my feet with a cold concentration.

_So...I need to think. The man who murdered my family might be a Templar. He is an ally of Haytham, yet Haytham is an Assassin...  
...Like Achilles Davenport, when our people saw him five years ago. _  
_But the Templars and Assassins are enemies. That does not make sense._

I passed a thick-trunked tree; a gloved hand grabbed my wrist from behind it. A jolt of shock slid up my spine. I gasped, reaching automatically for my knife. The nondescript arm swung my entire body round to face its owner before I could cry out in surprise.

"Haytham!" I breathed. "What are you –?"

He silenced me with a kiss. I was terrified that we would be caught; I squirmed to try and get free, but I was unable to resist him. I was in his arms again; in a blissful state of mind, oblivious to the village behind us. I stopped struggling and relaxed, not stopping my heart racing wildly. We broke apart.

"I had to see you," he whispered desperately. He glanced round in every direction to check that we were completely alone. "Listen, my men have been rather hostile about the hours I spend away from them."

I nodded. "My people are suspicious as well."

"Do any of them know where you went a few days ago?"

"Not yet," I admitted, "but I may tell Koshisigre. He will not reveal anything."

"Good, good." He couldn't stop glancing around. Was he paranoid that he'd been followed? I shifted uncomfortably against the bark of the tree.

"I wanted to remain loyal to the Order, but I could not just abruptly stop visiting. In their eyes, now we no longer need your assistance, it is pointless to keep in contact with you. We need to find a way around this."

"Haytham, my people feel the same..." I trailed away, thinking about the conversation in the brush house.  
_No! Do not think about that now!_

"We have to form a plan. We need to meet somewhere. But when?"

"Tonight would be a good idea."

"Excellent. By the river, perhaps? That way I can pretend I was investigating something about Braddock."

"But what if the troops are still there?" I asked.

"They aren't. I was there earlier today."

"What for?"

Was it my imagination that he diverted his gaze immediately after I'd said this? No; his usually flawless blue eyes clouded over with a kind of darkness that I couldn't analyse. Only for a moment. Then it was gone.

"Oh...nothing really. I will meet you tonight, at sunset." Then, just for good measure, her set my heart beating faster one more time. He gripped both my shoulders and whispered: "I am sorry. I would have said thank you, and stayed with you in the cave a little longer but..." the words died on his lips as I looked deep into his ink-blue eyes. "Oh, god, Ziio...if only you knew."

"Knew what?"

His chin moved up and down like he was struggling for breath. "I will tell you later," he whispered hurriedly, "I must go."

With that, he dashed up the steep hill and into the distance before I had time to react.


	18. Blood's Thicker Than Water

**WOWZAS! I'm amazed about the feedback when the word 'sequel' was mentioned! Well, we're on the last like 2 or 3 chapters now so I guess I'd better keep my promise! Summer holidays are coming up so plenty of time to start the sequel. It'll be in the exact same category (Ziio/Haytham K.) and Romance/Drama.**

**Just remains for me to thank all you WONDERFUL viewers! Nearly 9,000 in 6 months? It's crazy...SO THANK YOU!**

* * *

**ZIIO**

I stood there for a moment, perplexed. Why had Haytham simply run off? I cannot explain how, but it made me feel slightly uncomfortable. My brain was already in a whirl from overhearing Koshisigre's conversation with Alo and Kitchi. All these mixed feelings were tangling the very fibre of my mind into a strong knot.

I needed to clear my head. _A hunt should do the trick._

Yes, that seemed a wise decision to me. I did not fancy going back into the village to fetch my bow and arrows, so I decided that my knife would do. I'd just have to aim for small animals like hares or rabbits.

The trees swayed above my head, filtering out the late afternoon sun. As I headed uphill a gentle breeze became more apparent. I took a deep breath, attempting to soothe my aching head.

I followed the direction of the wind, not knowing where to go. It was a start, at least. There would be some prey wherever I walked; I had confidence.

I spotted a plump hare by a nearby bush. _There!_ I thought. I tugged my knife free from its case, flexing my fingers on the hilt. I edged closer, silently, swiftly. The hare paused to eat some wildflowers growing beneath the bush. My shadow was behind it, so it did not detect me – but carried on feasting. I raised my arm up high. The knife glinted in the afternoon sun like a predator's tooth, ready to strike...

A low-pitched growl knocked all breath from my lungs. I turned in shock to the source of the monstrous snarl...and I was paralysed. I gasped, but no air entered my mouth. At a pouncing position stood a huge, bloodthirsty cougar.

The hare behind me squeaked and dived for the bush. The orange beast lunged at me; its razor-edged claws flexed as – in mid-air – it sailed towards me. My heart was was pulsing so fast I thought I'd faint. My head was bellowing at me:

_Do something!_  
_MOVE!_

Another sickening snarl shadowed the echoes in my mind. I dived sideways, rolling over as I did so. The wildcat soared towards me again; this time too quickly for me to react. Pinned down, my stomach lurched. I felt like I was going to vomit. The battering of my heart would stop any time soon; I would become a cat's prey...

I looked into the fiery eyes of my killer. The hot tears spilling from my own said it all. _Just...do it, _I prayed to the savage beast. I thought of all the things I had done; and all the things I hadn't done, and was never going to do. I didn't want to die. The cougar growled louder than my screaming head. I closed my eyes as its teeth slashed into the skin around my neck, missing the fatal point narrowly. I howled in pain as blood oozed from the open wound. The agony was overwhelming; I struggled in vain like a fish on land. I didn't want to die! Not today!

_Do something!_  
_Too...much...pain..._  
_I don't want to die!_  
_Your knife! It is in your hand, Ziio! **USE IT! USE IT NOW!**_

With all the struggle I had left, I lifted my wrist and plunged the blade into the cougar's orange belly. Its claws retracted from my skin with an excruciating force; it flopped beside me and kicked its paws in a frenzy. Blood-curdling wails began to form and die on its tongue and the saffron eyes were glazed over with tears. I lay flat on the ground, still panting in shock as the animal writhed; jerked; perished beside me.

Silence. Nothing but the smell of my own blood; the intense stinging above my breast; my own desperate gasps for air. I swallowed with difficulty, tasting metallic fluid in my mouth. I felt like the beast had melted the inside of my throat, as it was so inflamed. But it was the shock that was the worst element of it all. Adrenaline was still racing round my head, making it sore. My ears were still roaring from absorbing the cougar's final cries. Every muscle in my body was tense, barely strong enough to twitch.

I blinked repeatedly and sat up. I had to inspect the wound. I was lucky to be alive; I knew that much. It was fortunate that my knife was still in my hand. My reactions had saved me by a matter of seconds.

_The pain..._

I peered down at the wound. A slurry of raw flesh and blood was exposed on my upper chest. No wonder it stung so much. It was so huge that I could fit my entire had on it. But it was still bleeding. I knew enough about medicine to recognise that _this_ was bad. Very bad.

_I need to bathe it._

I wondered if I should head back to the village...but no. I did not want the children to see me in such a vulgar condition. I myself had been scarred enough by Father, Helaku and Pallaton's corpses as a child. I would have to immerse it fully in water. That meant...

The river.

I staggered upright, only to find that my legs were still unstable from shock. There were goosebumps all across the skin on my arms. I was in no fit condition to travel too far. I would have to go directly to the riverbank. Retrieving my knife, I stumbled down the path that I knew would take me to the stream.

* * *

**HAYTHAM**

This scepticism was unbearable.

Knowing that – I might have seen her for the very last time that night. Knowing that the love I felt was one that I could not show. Or else. My head would never stop throbbing at the thought of her face; the feel of her lips; the mention of her name. Half was telling me that I had plunged a little too far into danger of discovery: that I should return to the Templars before I fell to deep.

But Ziio had made me fall deep already...deep in love; in passion that I never knew that I possessed. The other half of my mind was powerless to her beauty. It ceased to think maturely in her presence. Part of me said that what happened between Ziio and I in the cave was never to happen again; the other was predicting that something was coming; that the nectar of my hard work would soon taste sweeter than honey.

_So, do I love her?_

I found that question difficult to answer. _Yes,_ I thought to myself,_ yes I do. But should tonight be the very last time I see her...then I must admit it._

It pained me to think that I might never lay eyes on such a beautiful face ever again. Ziio had set my thought patterns walking in a different direction. She had changed my views on life completely. She had shown me what it meant to cherish.

So tonight, she would learn. Just how much she meant to me.

Perhaps I should go disguised to escape the Templars' attention. Yes, that was a good plan. I flung my coat onto my bed at the tavern, along with my triangular hat and hidden blades. I looked back in the mirror at myself. A younger version of me, I felt. Now, I really did look like a twenty-eight-year-old man. Not a man with duty slung over his shoulders. All that remained of me now was a spotless white shirt and black breeches. _Fetching._

I took a deep breath, snuffed the candle on my desk out and headed for the door.

* * *

**ZIIO**

Twenty minutes later, I found that I'd left a trail of blood as I walked. Of course, I did not mean for this to happen, but when I removed my deerskin boots at the bank of the river, the sand drank in the red liquid like water to scorched soil. Anyone who came near would think I had murdered somebody. But no. I knew that nobody would come here. This was a remote part of the forest, I knew.

Would I need to take all of my clothing off? No, probably only my outer cape. I unfastened the catch and sighed deeply as the heavy garment fell off my shoulders. I also removed my leggings, not wanting to get them drenched in the water.

The sun was setting across a beautiful pink sky when I waded out into the deep. The cold fluid was exhilarating, like a rainstorm in a drought. It was immediately dyed red around me when I stood in its depths. Already the wound had begun to close over. I sighed in my utter relief.

However, the same could not be said for the ugly red stain on my dress. I did not want my mother seeing that, after all. I pulled the left shoulder strap down, fully exposing the untreated skin. I tried to wash the unwanted colour off the fabric, to no avail. _Never mind._

At least now I was calm. The soothing sound of the water lapping and the soft glow of the orange sun had washed away all the trauma and shock of the attack. I looked around me and sighed with satisfaction.

There was a small sand hill in the middle of the river, not too far from where I bathed. I could barely believe that only one week ago, the Bulldog lay dying on that very patch of land. One week had flown past; what, with all that had been accomplished in that time.

But now I could relax. I closed my eyes, forgetting that the village might be looking for me; that they may be wondering where I was...

"Ziio?"

* * *

**DADADAHHHH!**

**Ah poor Ziio eh? So who was the voice at the end? Can you guess? Hehe :P **

**So we're only a couple of reviews away from a sequel, so carry on reviewing! Get friends to review it as guests or whatever (guest reviews still count towards our goal: 65!)**

**And thanks again to all you LOVELY viewers! **


	19. Under the Stars (Part 1)

When I opened my eyes, several things came as a surprise to me.

First of all, it was nearly night-time. I looked around in alarm. The stars had begun to emerge (though most remained behind invisible clouds). But the moon...it was the most luminous full moon; it glowed like a clump of fireflies in the mid-blue sky. I must've fallen asleep! Panicked, I swung back around and tried to push myself out of the water.

But I was already on the small sand mound in the middle of the river. _How did I float over here?_ That would explain the uncontrollable shivers. I rubbed my arms attempting to warm them in the cool night air. My teeth were wavering like the ripples of moonlight across the water.

The most shocking was the voice.

_So, was that voice reality, or dream? I am certain I heard my name being called._

"Ziio?"

And there it was again. I knew that voice. I squinted into the semi-darkness of the bank...no. Surely, not...

"H-Haytham?" I stammered.

It had to be. His glossy black hair sailing; his tall frame edging graciously towards the water. But he was almost unrecognisable, especially in the distance. Haytham had removed is triangular hat, blue coat, and blades. He was wearing just a white shirt and black trousers. He looked so...youthful. Handsome. Relaxed. The moon's mild light glinted on his hair (a little looser than usual). But he had come. He'd _come_.

Like a tide on the ocean Haytham pulled me closer. I waded through the water, my heart pulsing at double speed. We had agreed to meet tonight, I remembered suddenly. We arranged to be alone here.

_How could I have forgotten?_  
_You need not worry now._

The moment I stepped out of the water, Haytham hurtled towards me. I found myself running, pulling the strap of my dress back up as I did so, before throwing myself into his arms. My skin tingled when I felt his cotton sleeve brushing my still soaking back. This proximity was enough to make me tremble, despite how relaxed I felt. But he was _here._ With me. Just the two of us, entwined under the peaking stars.

Haytham's chest heaved madly. I could feel it thudding, the vibrations sending shock waves through my heart. He didn't seem to care that I was soaking wet, or the fact that I'd fallen asleep on the sand hill. And (thank the goddess) he hadn't seen my wound.

"What were you doing over there?" he asked over my shoulder.

"Oh...I was, erm...bathing."

"Why?" I felt his hand slip across my back and over my shoulder-blade, wrenching when it reached my bloodied dress. Haytham stepped back a little to see what it was...and his eyes bulged in horror.

"It is nothing," I said hastily, covering the stain up with my hand.

"Ziio. What happened?" With tenderness that made me numb, he touched the crimson cloth.

So I told him about the unexpected attack earlier on that day. He gasped at such a dramatic happening, but once again I dismissed it.

"I managed to kill the beast and the wound is already closing," I shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm not concerned, so neither should you be."

"Oh, Ziio..." he sighed. He leaned forward and kissed my lips, bringing my heart to a standstill. I would've protested; said that he needn't be so soft on me, but it was Haytham. He was already changing my thought patterns. Did he know how much control he had over my speech, movement, mind and soul?

* * *

We sat down on the sandy bank, our feet dipping into the cool water. It reflected the outstretch of scenic twilight before us. Already the gleaming water was setting a mood for us; I could feel a beautiful magic that I couldn't describe flowing through my veins. Were the flawless stars, moon's soft gleam and gentle ripples of the water making a difference?

Haytham and I spoke for a long time by the river about random but wonderful things, such as my tribe, the forest, England...even eagles. How we managed to reach that topic escapes me. But just watching his face, his pure white face as he talked cheerfully...it was an entrancing sight. The glittering sky reflecting in his already bright eyes added to his allure. Was he feeling this, too? I certainly thought so, when he apologised for 'behaving awkwardly' at the cave entrance.

"Awkward behaviour? What do you mean?"

"Erm...well, you know."

"No, I don't know," I giggled, "tell me."

"I'm sorry for behaving so strangely. I told you something ridiculous; that I had to go. I'm not entirely sure what came over me. I wanted to stay; to be with you. But my mind and heart...well, they were in different worlds."

"Oh." I hadn't expected these words at all. "Forgiven. I suspected something was wrong."

"You panicked me, that's all."

"Panicked? How?"

Haytham looked coyly into the distance. As the starlight skated across the whites of his eyes, that unexplained magic turned my abdomen over in excitement. "Unusual things happen when man and woman collide, Ziio. I think we both are aware of it."

I wasn't sure how to respond.

_Say something!_  
_No, stay silent._  
_No! Speak!_

"Yes. These are strange words, coming from a man such as yourself...but you speak the truth."

* * *

The night went on; the sky became steadily darker and the stars slowly brighter. How late was it? I didn't really care. I was with Haytham, so time stood still for us. Nothing mattered. Not the tribe, not Haytham's men. It was just the two of us in our private encampment. Well, not so much an encampment as the entire riverside under the stunning sky to ourselves. I did not want this to ever end.

Despite the tender nature of our conversations, I still could not ignore the hidden passion between us. It was invisible at the time, but I could tell that a lightning spark would erupt at any moment. If this was the only private time Haytham and I could easily meet, then I'd expected more. Despite myself I had even hoped for the three magical, time-stopping, heart-throbbing, untouchable words.

_He won't say it. Hope for nothing._  
_He may._  
_He will not._  
_Perhaps I should prompt him._  
_That would be bringing trouble. _  
_Perhaps I should say the words._  
_No. _

This intense battle rolled in my head throughout the evening. Even when Haytham casually asked how deep the river was, I was still thinking. What was he suggesting? Was he thinking that...

_No. Ziio, how could you think of such a thing? Stop, stop, STOP! It was a casual question. It did not mean...goodness, no! How insolent of you! _

"How deep is what? The river?"

"No," he chuckled sarcastically, "the scar on your cheek."

I tipped my head, baffled. "Haytham, I have no scar on my–"

I stopped. Already he flashed a mischievous grin like a sly wolf. "Hey! You tricked me!" I gave my revenge by leaning forward, cupping my hands in the river flicking a small amount of water in his face. He yelped in surprise, quickly recovering himself.

"Why, you little minx," he said playfully, shaking his head. Before I could respond I received a larger wave of ice-cold water all over my chest. I ducked to avoid him...but it didn't work.

"Stop!" I cried happily. "Stop it!"

_Revenge._  
_Hmm...what can I do?_

Haytham bent forward to draw more water.

_Push him into the river!_  
_No! I cannot do that!_  
_Why not? It would be funny._

So I did. When he turned to throw the contents of his hands at me, his triumphant smile slid off his face to a look of momentary terror. A dainty push from my hand sent him forward, straight into the cold, undulating water. The splash diverted the flawless reflection of the breathtaking sky in a series of fast-moving silence was broken; the atmosphere changed quicker than a gunshot.

Haytham emerged, completely stunned and dripping wet. I stifled my laughter with difficulty. But, as I gloated over my revenge, Haytham snatched my ankle and – with surprising strength – sent me plunging into the river's freezing depths. I was taken by surprise too much to shriek, but when I landed my skin stood on end; my body shook uncontrollably. I emerged from under the wave, gasping for breath. Haytham had started a war in the water, and I was going to make him pay. I whipped around to face him...but he wasn't there.

_Where is he? Under the water?_  
_He is possibly trying to take me by surprise. _  
_He'd better come up soon._

Ten seconds went by. No bubbles from anywhere in the water. Surely he should've come up to breathe by now?

Twenty seconds. He was a skilled swimmer and a practised breath-sustainer, I supposed. As I trembled like a rodent and shuddered in the cold, I scanned the surface for clues as to where Haytham was.

Thirty seconds. Now I was beginning to fret. No-one I knew could hold their breath for that long. Was he alright?

Forty seconds. Nothing. I went from concerned to panicked. "Haytham? Haytham?"

_Where is he? Where? Come on Haytham, where are you? Please, please...emerge! Or else you've...no. NO._

Fifty seconds. My heart rate rose with every passing moment. The deafening silence sent even more panic surging through my head. What if he'd drowned? What if he's hit his head? What if he was hurt, or worse. I spun wildly in the water, searching for any sign of Haytham's being. I had to find him by myself. I needed to dive. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath and preparing to immerse myself into the icy depths. _I must find him. One, two, three..._


	20. Under the Stars (Part 2)

The dive never came.

Haytham rose from the surface of the gleaming water, his glossy hair tinged with moonlight and his eyes alive with stars. It was like an angel had just swooped out of the deep; at that moment, I had never seen Haytham look so elegant.

But the most shocking of all was that he'd removed his cotton shirt.

That was when I lost control. I bit by lip, unable to breathe for a moment. That blue cloak did him no favours. Who would've known that he was so beautifully muscular?

_Stop, Ziio! You are supposed to be angry at him for scaring you!_

"HAYTHAM!" I bellowed, desperately guising the struggles for breath, "DON'T EVER DO THAT TO ME –"

The words melted on my lips. Without warning he glided towards me in the waves, grabbed my back with one hand and pulled me into a passionate and demanding kiss. All rage dissolved as I began to breathe faster, heavier. I was no longer angry, but dizzied by ardour; blinded by allure; giving into lustfulness.

But then he pulled away. His other hand (I saw from in the water) held his cotton shirt, which he threw onto the sand hill behind him. I had no objection at all to this, but why had he taken it off?

The assumptions I made caused my eyebrows to rise. No. That was not what it was for, was it? But if Haytham had taken off his shirt for no apparent reason...

_STOP! ZIIO, CALM YOURSELF! IT WILL NOT HAPPEN!_

"Why did you do that?" I asked through still chattering teeth.

"Because," he replied, "if I return later with my shirt soaking wet then my men will question me."

"No." I stopped him by putting a finger to his lips. His pupils widened ecstatically. "Why did you do...that? Kiss me, I mean."

"Because I had to," he smirked. I felt his hand slipping slowly up my back. I trembled like an earthquake under his tender touch, the blood underneath my skin alive with the amorous atmosphere.

"Stop it," I whispered.

"Stop what?"

That was a good point. Stop what?  
_He has torn down all of my defences. Every last one._  
_Why is that a problem?_  
_Because I do not want to be weak._  
_You are far from weak, Ziio. Simply, you are in love.__  
_

"Stop...doing that."

"I'm not doing anything, Ziio."

"I mean, stop weakening me. You are melting me down to nothing."

Rather than respond, Haytham caressed my cheeks with both of his loving hands, making me fall even deeper. "Am I, now? Well, I do apologise."

"Stop it!"

"Stop what?"

Now I was confused. I cherished this moment above all, but a raging objection deep inside me surfaced...but it came out rather unusually. It wanted me to be a strong and independent woman, despite every muscle; every inch of my skin; everything else falling into Haytham's blissful trap.

"Never mind," I whispered.

All of a sudden, Haytham glanced up at the stretch of sky above. He gasped and let go of me. "Look!"

"What?"

"The stars."

I raised my head to the most breathtaking band of hundreds of stars now, twinkling like piercing eyes watching over us in the water. I had seen many nights before; I knew that. But on this particular eve the patterns of pearly dots spelled out a different message: one that I could feel in the air. A romantic message, perhaps? No. Too fanciful. Too far-fetched.

"You know," I said, still staring at the sky, "my father used to tell an old legend to me. It said that each star is a person dear to us whom we have lost. They go on to watch over and protect us, and lead us to those who will help us in their absence." I smiled warmly at him.

Haytham re-gripped my hand, enlightened by this thought. "So you believe that fate has led me to you?"

"It is only an old story. But...yes, I do believe that."

"I feel quite the opposite," he chuckled into my ear. I felt his chin brush against my face, scratching it softly. "I was led to you."

"I suppose we will never know how fate brought us together. It is done now."

Silence. Just the tranquil washing of the water and the distant crickets calling from the bank. I wondered whether Haytham would say those three fanciful words. Just three. That was all it needed to turn my world upside-down. Maybe I should prompt him, I thought. So my other hand found its way into his. It received a warm, welcoming squeeze. But no words.

"Are you glad? That everything has happened the way it has."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Well, that you were made to help me all that time ago, in the tavern. That the Braddock Expedition threw us together rather unexpectedly. That even the worst of the events we have in common did happen."

"Of course I am glad! I would never know you, if otherwise. Goodness, I cannot bear that thought. I would still be a woman of steel for the past months. I wouldn't have been softened at all, nor trust anyone. You have taught me how to trust."

_How to cherish_, I wanted to correct myself, but did not dare.

Haytham chuckled softly, planting a kiss on my cheek. I smiled. "I wish we could have more time like this."

"We will," I breathed. "I promise."

"But what if we do not? What if this is..." I sensed Haytham tense against me. "What if this is the last time I see you?" he murmured.

"Have faith." I looked up at the night sky again. "Fate will guide us. And I think fate likes it this way."

In the silence that followed, I thought about all the things that we'd been through together while I stood in his arms. The chase, the anger, the tavern, the sword-fight, Koshisigre's near-death experience, the children of the village, the expedition, the cave...and now this. We certainly had come a long way, Haytham and I. But there was something still missing. An enormous part of both of us, that we were holding back. I could sense that Haytham was feeling this spark as well; it was clear from his every word an gesture. But neither of us dared.

Was it the freezing water that was making my heart beat faster? No. I knew now that it was the fact that I was in his arms; his loving, affectionate embrace. We could not stay silent like this. Were either of us going to say anything? I was quite happy for the time being, for there was no-one else whose arms I would've preferred to be falling apart and flaking in. Haytham had removed my steel mask, my need to be so flippant, and my mistrusting layer. Yet he still hadn't reached my core.

"Ziio?" The sound of his voice was sweeter than nectar.

"Yes?"

"I love you."

Time stopped in its tracks. All at once my mind raced, and my heart was beating so fast against Haytham's bare chest that I thought it would explode out of my own. The stars unlined above; I was dizzied by these words. They echoed sweetly in my ears._ I love you._ He loved me. All of my fears were carried away as I found myself in his kiss once more.

"And...I you," I struggled.

* * *

The rest of the night was a blur for the both of us. We reached the point in which our sense of logic had simply vanished, and in the long, passionate, lingering moments we could hold back our intense attraction no longer. It was an exotic, sensational blend of sick obsession and long-obscured desire, unleashed in an experience beyond description. But neither of us cared about the possible outcomes. Dazed and enlivened, we simply followed instinct, because this was what felt like the only option left for us. But we had each other, all the time. Between his hot-blooded kisses, he occasionally whispered the words: "I love you"; words that would stain the strings of my heart forever. For Haytham and I were together under the stars, where fate's glinting eyes watched and wept upon us. That I would always remember.

* * *

**DADADAHHH!**  
**Yup, you clever people can probably guess what just happened. Well that wasn't awkward to write at all... :P**

**Review, follow, favourite and stuff! Thanks for reading guys!**


	21. Chores and Choices

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: OK, this is VERY important. I deleted the original chapters 21 and 22 for HUGE blunders which would've ruined this whole story so I will edit/repost them but later on.**

**This chapter is a follow-on from Under the Stars (Chapter 20). Cruel Revelations (Chapters 21 and 22) won't come until later on. ****_C'est claire? Bon_****. (wait why am I speaking French, haha.) OK enjoy!**

* * *

I thought that the night we shared would pull our hearts closer. But it only drifted us further away.

In fact, now I had not seen Ziio for nearly six weeks. Six flavourless, wearisome weeks without her to make me smile. Even after I said those words: 'I love you', I wanted to snatch them back. Not that they weren't the truth, of course. Simply that with those words came a burden of responsibility: she would now (I had assumed) expect me to visit frequently, despite the infinite barriers between us. How I wished that I could abandon my busy life, and live suspended between love and work.

But I had duties to perform, and goals to achieve. She was only ever going to obstruct them. I felt like a monster to admit it, but every part of me knew that it was true. My heart ached each time I pictured Ziio: the feel of her smooth lips against mine; her long hair teasing my skin; her soft hands caressing my face. Truly and deeply, I loved her.

But a permanent darkness was instilled in my soul. All I'd ever been taught had left an imprint on my thoughts. They always jerked me away from any distractions, back to my all-important job. The Templar Order was more than my_ job_: it was my life. It was the reason I was not six feet underfoot in a rotting grave. I could not give that all up for a woman. As much as I detested this part of me, I couldn't shake it off. It was there to stay.

_What am I to do?_

It was clear to me now that I had to choose one or the other. Ziio? Or Templars? What kind of fiendish decision was that? My god, I had never been under so much pressure. I felt like I was being pushed into a sealed crate, with no-one to hear my gasps for air. Each day another heavy crate was placed on top of my own, bringing a terrible gravity with it. Day by day the tower built and sooner or later, it would give way.

* * *

"I have seen the land around this region, and it is not a very likely location," said Benjamin.

"Hmm." Charles scratched his chin, pensive for a moment.

Once again the five of us were poring over a map of all the regions we had covered, from Boston right the way to New York. We were highlighting where the precursor site was likely to be situated and – through several weeks' worth of elimination – had narrowed down our search zone to just a couple of regions. Ever since that experience in the cave I'd assumed that it wasn't the right place. Either that or I needed a different key. Or maybe more keys? I didn't know.

"Well, in that case..." His finger slid on the map across the river, skimming over the point where Ziio and I had last met. "I suggest that we begin here. After all, we know the area rather well now. Master Kenway?"

"Hm?" Charles tore me away from where my mind had wandered. "Yes, that would be a wise decision. But I cannot help but feel that we would be...intruding."

"Intruding whom?" William cocked an eyebrow from behind his tankard.

"The Natives. As they have been valuable allies so far, would it not be a little unruly to disrupt their peaceful habitat?"

"Since when 'ave we ever cared about disruptin' peoples' habitats?" Thomas said, slapping his ale down on the table.

I shrugged. "True, true." I wanted to (politely) protest a little further, but what I didn't need was raised suspicions: I was showing too much obvious interest in the Natives' affairs. I had already had one talk with my men about Ziio. I did not have the energy for another. "Yes. We shall begin our search there tomorrow."

* * *

The next morning we rose and dressed, and met at the table to check all our equipment. The inn was empty (the day being young) and an unusually peaceful silence filled the wooden walls.

"So...wha' exactly are we doin' with this lot?" Thomas queried, pointing to various tools laid out on the floor.

"We are investigating the area to find any matching symbols. Anything similar to the amulet, in the slightest," I replied.

"Eh?" he barked. "Isn' tha' a bit of a lost cause?"

"Not at all," Charles chuckled, descending the staircase. Clearly he'd been listening in. "Our search zone is narrow and we know precisely what we are looking for."

"Then wha' _are_ we lookin' for? Artefacts? Clues? Keys? Doors?"

"All of them, I suppose," William piped up. "Anything at all. We know all about the storehouse but what we lack to enter it."

Thomas shrugged, but didn't so much as moan when we mounted our horses. When I gave the signal, we galloped through the streets of Boston to the green hills ahead. A whole woodland of searching awaited.

* * *

I recall it being a rather hot day, so sweat was quickly running like rain down our foreheads. None of us were too satisfied when we began digging around the cave area. Memories of the evening Ziio and I had embraced in there came flooding back.

_Concentrate. Keep digging. Forget about Ziio. _

After hours of toil and nothing noteworthy found, Charles and I decided to move a little further away. We sat together by the enormous ditch the five of us had made.

"This is ludicrous," Charles muttered to me. "The First Civilisation were unlikely to have put a key right outside the entrance. Where else do we need to look?"

"You're right," I sighed. "We could follow someone else's ideas. Who else would've been looking for the keys?"

"Braddock, perhaps?" Charles' face suddenly lit up, before falling again. "Dammit. He's dead. Not much use, then."

"No, that's it!"

"What?"

This was all clicking into place. Before he dies, Braddock was marching to Duquesne. The woods was not the quickest route to Duquesne; it hardly took a genius to know that. So he must've had some other purpose in the woods, if he was disrupting Natives. Perhaps...perhaps he was looking for the key as well! He'd travelled along the river before I killed him.

I voiced this thought to Charles. His eyebrows nearly disappeared behind his face. "Yes! It must be somewhere along the army's route to Duquesne! We needn't toil here...we must re-locate to the place of his downfall!"

* * *

So we did. We packed up our tools and selfishly left a mess of overturned soil. I had protested, but then I remembered. The other Templars had no interest in disruption to the Natives' land.

The path we rode was simply a reverse of the one Ziio and I took. The memory of her face in the unsaturated sunlight was nearly enough to knock my concentration levels off course. But undeterred, I led us straight to the riverbank. To the sand my very clothing had rested on two months ago, and the earth which was stained with the trail of blood Ziio left. Even now, the slightest brown stain mingled on the sand like a traitor. Faded though it was, the stain was enormous. Enough for the others to notice.

"Crikey," Thomas remarked. "What happened here? Murder?"

"Probably a bear fight," Benjamin suggested.

I ignored him with difficulty, scanning the surrounding tree bark for any symbols etched into it. Charles set to work doing the same; William and Benjamin began unloading the tools from the horses' backs.

Now, according to what I'd been told by my mentor long ago, the said key I needed other than the amulet would be the same as the one strung round my neck. But where would such a thing be located?

_If I were the First Civilisation, where would I hide a key?_  
_I would most likely bury it._

My god, it'd take a lot of digging to find it. Were there no more clues? None at all? _Great_. Thomas was right: this really _was_ a lost cause. Why was I even bothering? And who was to say that – despite all our calculations – this was where it was hidden?

"Listen!" William's sharp shout ripped me from my state.

"What?" Benjamin demanded.

"There are footsteps over the hill," he hissed. "What do you reckon? Redcoats? Natives?"

At the word 'Natives', I froze. Immediately thoughts of Ziio marching over the hill filled my head like a scent of sweetness. But no. I should not assume that. Footsteps echoed down the steep slopes: at least four pairs of feet in unison trudged across the grassland above us.

Everyone was motionless. No-one dared to utter a word. At last, forgetting how suspicious I could've looked, I stepped in.

"Whoever they are, I'll see them off," I whispered.

I grabbed my sword at my side and crept up the hill. My men exchanged glances behind my back; I caught a glimpse of their perplexed faces. Never mind how suspicious they were. I had work to do.

The footsteps seemed to be dimming: the parade was getting further away. If it was redcoats, I'd sure as hell give them a run for their money. But if it was Natives...

A snapped twig on the ground blew my cover. _Damn, _I cursed as the mystery people stopped. Foreign voices rose in panic. I dived behind the closest tree and tried to peak at who was there.

My eyes flexed when I saw them. It wasn't redcoats after all: just Mohawks. There were three men and one woman all clothed similarly, but the woman looked nothing like Ziio. But one of the men there, tall with jet-black hair, a thin face and small head, looked familiar. Where had I seen him before? _Am I supposed to recognise him? Because I don't._

Either way, he turned so he was facing me. I lunged to hide again, but the young man spotted my cloak flying when I moved. His face lit up when he saw me.

"Haytham!" he beamed.

* * *

**This chapter was split into a lot of sections. Did everybody understand what was going on? I felt it lacked description, but review and tell me. **

**Can you guess who the mystery 'young man' was? You probably can but I'll put a question on it anyway! :) next update should hopefully be more exciting!**


	22. Abnormal Appeal

My mouth dropped open in astonishment. Had I heard correctly? The boy said my _name. _Confusion whirled in my head as I tried to remember who he was. But I couldn't.

The two other men and woman turned. Their faces resembled mine: a look of utter perplexity on each one. But the young Mohawk continued to smile at me like an old friend.

"Haytham!" he repeated, stepping closer. "Do not look so bemused. I am a friend."

_A friend_, I thought. Was he an ally from the Braddock expedition? Yes, I definitely saw him then. But I reckoned that I knew him from before. My lips remained still nonetheless.

"Do you remember me?" he asked. "I am Koshisigre. A friend of Ziio's. You saved my life once, remember?"

At last, a memory clicked with his name._ It's him! Koshisigre! The boy I saved from the clifftop!_

"I..." I couldn't find words to say. "Yes, I-I remember. Um, hello."

"Hello."

I wasn't sure which was worse: the extremely edgy silence or the still staring Mohawks, clutching their bows as if about to fire. Koshisigre muttered something to them, and they relaxed. The grip on their weapons loosened. _Perhaps he's told them I am a friend, _I assumed.

"Oi! 'Aytham! Who's up there?" Hickey's voice boomed from downhill.

"Just some friends," I shouted back down. "Fear not. I shall see them gone in a moment."

I looked back at the Natives, as if to say: _not really._The more gruff-looking of the two older men nodded, murmuring: "We will be gone, rest assured. We are the hunting patrol for today."

"Such a long way from the village," I remarked. "Why have you travelled so far?"

Silence again. _Why are all these Mohawks so goddamn mysterious?_

"So, erm...you say that you are a friend of Ziio's," I addressed the boy again.

"A very close friend indeed," he purred.

"How is she? Only I haven't seen her for weeks."

The smile slid off his face instantly; he bit his flaky lip. The two men and woman busied themselves looking at the ground. I knew something was wrong immediately.

"What's the matter?" I asked, my nerves rising.

"Perhaps a private conversation would be a good idea," he whispered. "Come."

"What?" I barked, taken aback.

"Ssh," he hissed desperately. "We need to find somewhere quiet to talk."

_A talk in private? But why –_

At once horrifying assumptions came to mind. There was something wrong with Ziio. That was why she hadn't come to see me. Was she sick? Injured? Worse? _Worse_. That word made my spine feel the chills of a ghost. Not possible. Koshisigre had spoken of her rather normally until I asked how she was. _Ziio is fine,_ I told myself. _She is a strong woman. _

I followed Koshisigre across the plain, his accomplices eyeing both of us suspiciously. He swerved skilfully around a large thorn bush (of which one of the branches poked my eye). I cursed silently, wiping the welling moisture and blinking.

"Will this be brief?" I asked. "I think my men have no appreciation for my absence."

"Yes, yes it will be," said Koshisigre, exasperation creeping into his voice.

At last we were out of view of the others. The surrounding trees shielded us completely, even as the hot breeze blew the branches to reveal our path. I still had the feeling that something wasn't right. Why was Ziio's health such a private matter to this boy? Even when Koshisigre turned to face me, his face was grave as death.

"I cannot lie to you, Haytham. Ziio is not herself."

_Oh._ I expected much worse than this. "How? Why not?"

The young Mohawk's eyes widened to the size of spectacles. "She speaks to nobody. She continually sways from dizziness when she hunts. She is clearly sick, but seeks no help."

I did not know what to make of this. Why was I being told this in private? "Yes...?" I pressed.

"She will not even tell me what the matter is. I wondered if...if you would know?"

"Me?" I spluttered. "I have not seen her for weeks! How should I know?"

He shrugged. "I simply had a feeling that the problem was related to you. She tells me everything, you know. I heard all about the night in the cave. I know that you are very, _very_ dear to Ziio. Perhaps she is...pining for you?"

I frowned. This was ridiculous. "Pining for me? Not possible. Ziio isn't like that."

"I have known her since I was born. I most certainly can sense when she is upset."

My mouth opened and closed as I struggled to find words. I knew it was far from intentional, but the boy was practically bragging that he knew my own lover better than I did.

_Lover...such a strong word. Is it a word to suit Ziio and I?  
I wish I knew the answer._

"Well, if she misses me, she can always visit. She knows where I stay."

"Ah. But would your men approve?" he asked.

"We could disguise her visit as a meeting about the land."

_That sounds ridiculous, Haytham. A meeting about the land?  
It is possible.  
But also very, very suspicious.  
_

Koshisigre felt the same thing. "That would be difficult. I have seen your men. They are simply lost without you, and when you leave them they grow restless. I heard that man for myself a moment ago. Was he satisfied with your lengthy disappearance?"

Much as I hated rhetorical questions, I knew that he was right. I sighed. "So what do you propose, exactly?"

He glanced around through the swishing trees to check that nobody was listening. "I propose that you come to our village to visit Ziio. I could sneak you in at night, if necessary."

This was all too much. Not only was this conversation risky and awkward, but his ask was a big one. "What? I can't possibly –"

"It is for Ziio's sake," he urged. "Please."

"It is impossible. I won't stand for this!"

"Just one visit. It is enough. Please," the young man pleaded.

I shook my head in indignation.

_The things a man must do for love! To sneak out and visit Ziio?_  
_You told her that you loved her. She should want to see you._  
_But she should not grow ill over me!_  
_Perhaps she is ill, anyway. It may not be related at all. Come on, Haytham. You know that you want to see her._

I broke my gaze from his pleading eyes to the sky above. I thought of all the times I'd seen her; those perfect moments of relaxation and love. They were some of the happiest memories I'd had in America. Surely the night at the river was not destined to be the last? I knew that my heart needed to race again. I knew that my lips longed for hers. I knew that she needed me, even if it never showed.

"Alright," I huffed. "Alright. But this has to be planned. I suppose tonight would be suitable, when it is dark?"

Koshisigre nodded. "Yes. I shall wait at the village entrance and sneak you in. I will not tell Ziio though. She would love the surprise!"

* * *

As we both went our separate ways, a tiny, unwanted feeling bugged me. Something inside simply didn't have the energy to visit. This feeling grew rapidly when my men fired questions at me like bullets. I answered them as coolly as possible, but it was hard to disguise the length of my absence. If this was the sort of burden that being in love with Ziio brought, I had no strength to bear it.

Later that night I woke and dressed quickly, wondering what on earth I was doing. Here I was, Master Kenway, stealing away to some Native woman I called my lover. It was incredulous. Why had I changed so much for one person?

_Well, that 'one person' is most certainly worth changing my ways for._

I crept downstairs in the darkness, mounted my horse outside and rode into the night.

* * *

**Sorry for how long that took to update. Why is it that even in the school holidays I can't find time for writing? Again, that was kind of sloppy so I really will try next time. Review and stuff! **


	23. Concealed Revelation

Day by day flew past.

I knew that perhaps I should visit him – but I couldn't. Haytham had no clue that our love was fragile around the edges, and the slightest slip could cause us both to fall. The possible outcomes were unbearable.

So were the rumours.

Whispers, rising from the village like hissing steam. Whether or not I was in earshot, I knew that they were talking about me. Each person glared with eyes black as beetles when I passed. All around me the villagers stood emitting a soul-splitting silence, before the mutters slipped shamelessly from every mouth.

It took me a while to figure out why.

First came the nausea. In a stream of nights I awoke and was violently sick. I assumed that this was perfectly natural: uncooked food or dirty water, perhaps. Besides, the sickness was not something that everyone knew of. And so I ignored it.

Then came a soreness I couldn't explain. My chest became swollen and tender, but it had nothing to do with the cougar bite. Even though a dreadful scar was still there, it no longer pained me. It had to be something else.

Next came the exhaustion. Whenever I hunted, my eyelids drooped like Autumn flowers; my head grew heavier with every second. One time I even collapsed, quickly lifting myself up before the rest of my patrol saw. That was when I became slightly concerned. But I told nobody. I knew that it would only put me into every conversation. Such unruly attention was the very last thing I wanted.

One night, I added two and two together. The nausea, the dizziness, tiredness and sore chest. It could only mean one thing.

Then I knew.

Such a demonic discovery should come with a warning. The blow of the revelation was worse than the abdominal agony. It hit me like a thousand arrows, and brought a surge of sour emotions.

My first feelings were ones of dread. If the people found out about this...there would be big trouble. The Clan Mother (who was coincidently my mother) would have me severely punished. The fact that I was her daughter wouldn't soften her heart at it was hardly a sin that I could hide forever.

The feelings that followed were depression and frustration. How could we have been so stupid? So ignorant? I knew what I did was wrong. Why did I not stop myself before it took shape? There was nothing I could do now. I was trapped in my self-digesting body. I was on a sinner's cliff, teetering over the edge of destiny.

But the worst realisation was that I would have to tell Haytham. Oh, heavens. How was he going to react to all this? Would he be angry? Upset? Disbelieving? I dreaded to think. But he had to know. He had to help me. _When the village finds out, it will be daunting enough_, I thought. _But the hardest part will be telling Haytham._

I couldn't bear to face him. I knew that someday I had to inform him. It was half his fault, after all. Yet something inside me said that it'd tear us apart. What was best? Ride to Boston or wait for him to come to me?

I didn't leave my house very much; I hated my now edgy reputation. So I waited for Haytham to come to me. I doubted very much that he would. He was a busy man dedicated to the Assassins. Another week – the sixth without him – went by.

But then, one night, he came.

* * *

"Ziio," a voice breathed into the darkness. "Ziio. I am by the entrance."

I sat up, rubbing my eyes. "Who's there?" I hissed.

"Koshisigre," he replied in English (much to my surprise). "Can I enter?"

I blinked. An outline of two figures (one tall and lean; the other cloaked and more muscular) was barely visible in the moonlight. I knew the taller one to be Koshisigre. But who was the other?

"What do you want?" I moaned sleepily. "And why are you speaking English?"

"I have a visitor," he whispered. "He is here for you."

"Hold on," I murmured. "Can it not wait until morning?"

"No it cannot. Come out here," Koshisigre commanded.

"Must I?" I replied, following his lead and speaking English. _What's the reason for the change of language?_

"Yes," the muscular man whispered. I didn't recognise him at first, until his very distinct English accent showed: "Ziio, it's me."

"Haytham?" I squeaked, my heart lifting higher than the roof.

I sprung to my feet, fumbled through the blackness. I plunged outside into the cold night; into his arms. I momentarily forgot that Koshisigre was standing next to us. I let Haytham hold me for a long time before I kissed him like it was the first time in years. The shock still hadn't hit me, even moments after.

"What are you doing here?" I whispered ecstatically in his ear.

"A little surprise," he chuckled, stroking my hair. "Though you have your friend here to thank."

I looked across at Koshisigre. "You?" I gasped. "You asked Haytham to come?"

He nodded, a smirk playing across his face. "You sound surprised, Ziio. Am I right?"

"I will explain in a moment," Haytham whispered, "but first we should move somewhere quiet. Is there a clearing we can go to? That way we won't arouse the village."

"Yes, yes," I squeezed his hand and began walking. "Follow me."

"Wait – stop."

Koshisigre grabbed my arm so sharply that I halted.

"I want to speak with you first. Haytham, you go. Ziio will join you in a moment."

Haytham looked baffled, but dipped his head and disappeared. Perhaps he was also surprised at Koshisigre's words: 'Ziio will join you in a minute.' Nobody had taken so much control over me in years. Furthermore, Koshisigre was not the assertive type: his style was pleading and negotiating. Why was he so protective all of a sudden?

He glanced at the village entrance to check that Haytham really was gone. Then (and only then) did he face me, a stern look in his eye.

"Now, listen Ziio," he hissed, "I only asked him to come because I thought it would make you happy."

"Thank you. But why are you doing this?" I asked.

"As happy as he does make you, and besides the time he saved my life, I do not approve of your Templar boyfriend."

"Templar?" I spluttered. "Haytham is an Assassin. Make no mistake about it."

"Are you sure?"

"I am certain," I snapped defiantly. "He has the same blades as Achilles. Where else would he obtain such things?"

"But what about his accomplice? You forget, Ziio. He killed our _fathers_, and your brothers. Does this mean nothing to you?"

"How dare you!" I snarled. "Are you suggesting that I never cared about Father?"

"Ssh!" he whispered. "We wil wake the others!"

"Sorry. But that man is different to Haytham. He saved your life, remember?"

"Ah, but did he save me for me, or for you?"

"What does that mean?" I was getting very impatient now.

"I am saying, if Haytham didn't know that the man in trouble – me – was your friend, would he have helped?"

"Yes, of course he would! He is a kind man. I promise."

"And what of his accomplice?"

"His accomplice –" I paused. What about the Irish man? "I am confused about, I confess. How do we know he is a Templar? All Achilles said was that they were not redcoats, yet were infamous for cruel acts. He could simply be corrupt. It doesn't mean to say he's a Templar."

Koshisigre nodded. "Alright. But...Ziio, please be careful."

"I will," I replied carelessly, before dashing off at the speed of an arrow to join Haytham.

* * *

**There we are! Got there in the end! I've had awful writer's block over the past two weeks (I've already told you people on YouTube!) but I think I'm recovered now. Yay! Just so you all know I have a busy summer holiday planned and may not have a lot of time for writing. I will find as much as I can, though!**

**Thank you as always guys :)**


	24. Untruthful

Haytham had chosen to sit behind the bushes, which marked the village entrance. When he saw me from behind him, he moved aside that I could sit down. The grass was wet in the early morning dew, but I brushed myself off and settling beside him.

"What did your friend want to speak of?" he inquired.

"Nothing important," I replied.

_His face in the moonlight...so soft...gleaming...handsome._  
_I am being hopeless! Heavens, I really must have missed him._

"Oh, if only you knew," I found myself sighing.

"Knew what exactly?"

"How much I have missed you."

His gentle smile was enough to set my heart flutter. It had been too long since I had felt like this. I had nearly forgotten what Haytham's presence did to my mind, heart, body and soul. But I loved it.

"I can only guess how much that is. I know I have missed you. Not that it is a cause of concern now. We are together."

This line was quirky by Haytham's standards. Since when had he become so skilful with words? They were enough to unleash my desire; I leaned forward and kissed him again.

"Why the sudden change?" I was so close, I almost spoke into his neck. "You sound like a poet; all these romantic words."

"Poet? No," he shrugged, "not me. How would you know what a poet is like? Are there poets among your village?"

"Oh, yes!" I replied. "Rhymes are recited down generations here. Most are heroic tales for children, but others are love poems, said to win a heart."

Haytham's eyes widened, intrigued. "Hm, sounds like London."

"Are there many poets there?"

"Yes, indeed! But they are immortalised in writing. William Shakespeare, for instance: the greatest playwright who ever lived. Based on him alone, sonnets were almost born in London."

Silence.

_Haytham has never spoken of his home before. _  
_I should ask. He knows all about my home._

"What is it like?" I asked. "England, I mean."

"Well, er – it is similar to here, in many ways. Yet it is also different." "There is far less forest; more cities. Not to mention plenty more rain. But it is alive with culture. Music. City lamps, and burning fuel at the docks. The damp scent in summertime is so distinctive, one couldn't mistake it for anywhere else."

"Are there any tribes there?"

"I – er, no. Everyone lives in stone villages."

I shuddered at this thought. No freedom? No nature's protective coat, wrapped around the settlements like a spirit of peace?

"But there. Each nation to their own," he added, seeing my disgusted face.

Silence.

"Do you miss England?"

Haytham stroked his pointed chin."Um...I shall never forget it. It is my fatherland. But no, I am rather comfortable here."His face suddenly lit up."Oh yes! I meant to tell you. I have good news."

"Good news?"

"My men will be working near here for weeks! At least, by reckoning. Do you know what this means, Ziio?"

"That we will see each other more often?" I beamed.

"Precisely!" he said excitedly. "Isn't that marvellous?"

"Yes indeed. Though I will not interrupt your work life, if you wish for me not to." I took his hand in my own, and looked into his indigo eyes."You are dedicated to your Order, I know."

"Flattery will get you everywhere," he said sardonically, squeezing my hand in return.

"I speak the truth!" "The Assassins are lucky to have you."

His grip on my hand slackened. He seemed to tense beside me "What?"

_Oh no. Koshisigre is right. _  
_No, how do you know?_  
_He seemed so...unsettled when I mentioned the Assassins._  
_Ask._

"Well, you _are_ an Assassin, yes?"

His eye contact broke for a moment. My doubts began to rise, until he said: " Er – I – um, yes. You could say words to that effect, I suppose."

_Ah, but is that the truth?_  
_Haytham is an honest man, Ziio. Of course that is the truth._  
_I am unconvinced._  
_Stop questioning! Why would he lie to you? _  
_I want to know more._

"What is your business here? You and your allies."

He relaxed a little, seeing I'd gone off on a tangent. "I showed you already. The amulet. I was certain it was the key to something. Something that has been missing for thousands of years. But I either lack another key, or another place. My men and I have narrowed our search zone down..."

_He looks so lively when he speaks of his work. He must be dedicated._  
_I have never seen him so intrigued by anything. It is attractive._  
_Yet funny._

"What?" he demanded. "Why are you laughing?"

"Forgive me. It is a wonderful sight, seeing you speak of your passions with such vigour."

"My passions are amusing to you? Why were you laughing at me, Ziio?"

"Because I had to." I smirked, before kissing his cheek. But when the impact of my own words hit me, I pulled away. My stomach churned, suddenly remembering with shock: that was what Haytham said to me, the night that we...we...it was unthinkable. Yet he did not know what damage our deed had caused. To both of us. I looked at the ground, his unknowing gaze momentarily too much to take.

_I have to tell him._

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

"N-no, I'm fine."

"Ziio," he sighed, "I know when you are 'fine'. 'Fine' is not suited to describe you. What's troubling you?"

_Tell him!_  
_Do not._  
_Tell him!_

"No, nothing. Really," I squeaked. "I'm fine."

"You can tell me, Ziio. Your friend back there said that you have not been yourself of late."

_Tell him!_  
_How will he take it? I am not to know._  
_Tell him! You must!_

"I – I–" I sighed, unable to speak. "Forgive me, Haytham. Only I cannot find the right words."

"Take your time." "I am in no hurry."

I paused, yet there was no silence: the voices in my head screamed different orders, making me fall further. I was collapsing on my own mind, and Haytham was sitting there unaware. I bit my lip, fighting back the single tear my eye was clutching. I could not cry. Not now.

_Tell him._  
_I cannot! I am afraid!_  
_You are never afraid, Ziio._  
_I am now._  
_Tell him! _  
_Do not._  
_You must. Do it. Do it now! _

Just as I bore his stare and opened my trembling lips, I heard a swish from the distance. Both of our heads turned in alarm. There were footsteps, coming closer and closer to the entrance.

"Someone is awake," I whispered sharply. "Quick, you must escape!"

"Wait."

Before I could protest, Haytham grabbed my face and held me in his embrace for a long time. I struggled for breath in my surprise. I wanted to tell him: there was someone coming! Now was not the time! But I could hardly resist another second. We pulled apart; I gasped for air.

"I love you," he panted.

"And I you. Now go! Quickly!"

He scrambled to his feet and was engulfed in darkness before I could think about it.

* * *

Later on I crept back to my house and laid down to sleep. I was confident that nobody had seen me snooping around, so I should have felt safe. But I felt far from safe. First of all I was confused. Why did Haytham seem so stunned when I said that the Assassins were lucky to have him? Perhaps he really was not an Assassin. But why would he lie to me otherwise?

Next I felt frustration. I should have told him. I had the chance, all that time and I kept the most terrible secret to myself. He had to know. He might've known what to do. But I kept quiet. It was too late now.

Unless...

He said that he was working nearby. I could attempt to follow the hunting patrol and speak to him while he worked. Yes, that was a good plan – but would I feel up for it after all my body was going through? I did not want to collapse again. But I had to try.

One way or another, I was going to tell him.

* * *

**DADADAHHHH!**

**Ooh, the tension is rising now! They are both keeping secrets from one another and are not sure how to respond to the situation. Uh-oh!**

**Thanks for reading! Please review honestly, but I hope you enjoyed it!**


	25. Closing In

My assumptions grew with every day.

Each morning I found myself diving for the bushes, vomiting more violently than ever. If that was not enough, the corrosive fluid in my throat made eating a chore. I forced down little bites of food before retreating to my house. I did not want to show any signs of struggle. But my body was imploding with the burden it bore. The burden which could not be lifted.

If this really was what I thought it to be...I was in trouble. Deep trouble. I knew what kind of trap I'd fallen into now. I could not keep living in the dark like this. But was there a way out? Was there someone who could help?

My first thought was Haytham. But objections reared like angry horses in my head. He could not help me. He was busy; I had no intention of troubling him. I was hardly in a condition to hunt or visit. I would tell him one day, when I was ready.

My second thought was Mother. But, heavens, I would be punished. How severely was unpredictable. I dared not risk it. Besides, it was not right for the Clan Mother to deal with her daughter's problems.

_Koshisigre? No._ Although he'd listen, he had no knowledge of my condition. He could sense that I was upset, but he had already interpreted it wrong. He'd sent for Haytham, thinking that _he_ would end this depression for good. He was wrong.

_Nitika?_

Ah, yes. Nitika. Not only would she listen, keep the secret and console me: she already knew. She had first-hand experience of what I was feeling. She would tell me exactly what was happening. But most importantly, she would never judge me for being with Haytham.

I was almost certain that my guesses were true. But I needed to know for sure.

Before sundown one night, the Clan sat together to eat by the fire. There was plenty of cooked food laid out; people sat on the ground and chatted merrily. I picked away at my portion of hare; only tiny pieces ended up in my stomach. Nitika (sat next to me by the fire pit) had spotted this. She was most displeased.

"Now, child," she cooed, "you must eat some more. Look at you. You have become skin and bones."

I swallowed hard, staring at my thinned arms. "I will, Nitika. Fret not. But...can I...talk to you after this meal?"

"Of course!" she replied. "You can talk to me now if you wish."

"No –" I held out a hand to stop her. I glanced up at the circle of chattering people. The only person eyeing us was Koshisigre. "In private. I need to ask you...something of a sensitive nature."

Nitika cocked an eyebrow. "All right," she said, startled. "Come to my house after you have finished."

* * *

And so I spilled the story to her. Of the night at the river, the continuous symptoms and terror to tell a soul. Her face changed a lot as she listened, from mildly surprised to absolutely aghast. But once I'd finished in a hushed tone, I shivered. Why was talking about it so difficult? I was no overemotional character. Either way, one empty tear escaped my expressionless face.

"Are you sure?" Nitika asked.

"I am almost certain. I need you to tell me."

"Why not turn to your own mother?"

"Because she will have me punished. I did not want to ask you this, Nitika. But I have to know the truth."

She nodded, frowning in thought. "Let me feel. Lie down a moment, Kaniehtí:io."

I did as she asked. I stared at the fire flickering on the roof. My shadow flashed in and out of focus: a young woman, lying defeated on the cold hard ground. A metaphor of what I had become. What was still to come.

_I need to be sure._

Nitika's hands passed over a sensitive point on my abdomen. A small gasp was released from my throat, quickly stifled.

_What else could these signs be? I did not need to ask Nitika at all._  
_Yes, Ziio. You did. You need some guidance._  
_But why risk being overheard?_  
_Because if Nitika knows, you will feel safe._

"I cannot feel a child quickening. How long ago was this?"

I sat up slowly. "I-in midsummer. The day the cougar attacked me."

"Well, that is not enough that I can notice. Yet I am sure there is a child inside you."

I felt my throat tighten.

"Fear not," she added, seeing my distressed face. "It will be a long time before the villagers notice."

"But...what about when they do?" I asked, my voice rising hysterically. "They will think that I have betrayed them. They will know that I bear the bastard child of an Englishman. What should I say to Mother?"

"Your mother will understand," Nitika soothed, rubbing my tense back. "If she has you punished, I will reason with her. Your...lover is no enemy to us. We can tell the villagers that when the time comes. But for now, we wait."

I relaxed. She was unable to console me completely, but there was a lot of truth in her words. She and Mother were friends. Nitika could easily bargain with her to release me from reprimand. I had nothing to fear. Yet.

* * *

Well I was wrong.

When I ambled sleepily to the village entrance the next morning, a lively (yet dark) quietness hovered over the people like a murky mist. Groups of two or three huddled together on every corner, muttering intensely among themselves.

But each time I passed a group, the conversation would immediately stop. Each eye stared shamelessly at me. Never quite into my own eye: always slightly below. Their gaze followed me like a shadow until I was out of view. I shuddered.

_I am imagining it,_ I told myself. But as I turned a corner, the exact same thing happened with a group of three teenage boys. How much more of this could I take? Why were they all staring, in any case?

_One more corner_, I thought. _I should find some privacy at the entrance._

But there was a crowd larger than I'd ever seen by the trees. The people swarmed like a hive of buzzing wasps. Each stare a stinging blow. The mutters lowered when I approached, but did not stop.

_Keep your head low._

I stared at the ground with forced concentration. _If only I could block them all out. This is torture. _But not until I heard a voice utter:

"She does not look pregnant."

I froze in horror. Was she talking about me? How? How could she have found out?

_Don't...look...up..._ I thought. _Do not... make it...look...obvious._

"We do not know how long she is due, though," a man replied.

I felt my blood begin to boil. My fists clenched like my pounding heart. Someone must have been listening outside Nitika's hut. How could they spread the word? How?

"Perhaps she was raped."

I quickened my pace, legs shaking.  
"By whom?"

"A redcoat?"

_Ignore them._  
But my lip was positively trembling.

"A Templar?"

At that, a tear escaped my cheek. _Templar. No. Too many thoughts. Too many negative thoughts. Too much cruel attention. Too much to take. Too much._

I tore through the bushes and ran.

* * *

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

That was my heart as I hurtled through the woods. Trees swayed in the breeze; the sound was sibilant like whispers. The rustling of the trees and the staccato clicks of birds became more personified. The forest was spreading rumours about me, just like the villagers.

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

My throat was dry; my eyes moist; my chest heaved like a toiling slave. I didn't care where I was going. All I knew was that I needed to run. The further from the village, the better.

_Keep going. Keep going. They cannot touch you here._

Angry blisters throbbed on my feet; bile and blood poisoned my mouth.

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

The mutters of the forest rose to my ears, this time more defined than ever. Three words echoed in my head, pushing me down, down...

_Shame. On. You. Shame. On. You._

My head joined in with the nature around me. Why was I so scared? Why was I so weak? Was this something to do with pregnancy?

_Pregnancy._  
_I am..._  
_I am..._  
_I am pregnant._  
_A child forms inside me._  
_A child will be born unto me._  
_I have made a mistake._  
_A mistake I will never rectify._

Overlapping these dreadful thought streams came the clear, vicious words:

_Shame. On. You. Shame. On. You. Shame. On. You._

What was I running for? All I wanted was to get away from the village for a while. I was making a scene of this. Why not slow down? My feet were throbbing, anyway. I stopped my sprint and caught my breath.

The voices faded at once. The swishes, clicks and distant calls normalised. _This_ was the forest I was used to.

I supposed I could stay here for a while, until the drama died down.

* * *

**DADADAHHHH!**

**Yes indeed! Ziio is pregnant and it's no secret! **

**I know she was acting weirdly towards the end, but you would be too, if you were in her position. She can't really hear 'voices' in the forest, by the way. It's only a metaphor of how it feels like the world's closing in on her (including the subtle things like the forest). Does that make sense? Lol, probably not but whatever.**

**I'm on holiday next week so updates may take one week or more. Just so you're aware.**

**Thanks for reading guys :)**


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